Eitho Nin (Aid Me)
by Kureiji-Kurai
Summary: The fallen Queen of Asgard, Loki, finds herself in an unfamiliar and dangerous realm after falling from the Bifrost. The injured sorceress is forced to seek aid in the closest to friendly creatures she finds, ones with pointed ears and lofty pride. She's forced to bend her knee to Mirkwood'sKing in hopes of protection.Ever resourceful, she seeks to tip the scales. FemLoki!
1. After the Fall

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

After the Fall

* Tolkien/Movieverse

-Thranduil, Legolas, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Loki/Lady Loki

_AN: I received this as a challenge. The requestee wanted me to write a crossover fic on Loki and Thranduil/Mirkwood elves (because those seem to be rare around here I guess. It does make sense though!). They wanted Fem!Loki after falling off the Bifrost into Middle-Earth where she ends up before the Elvenking and seeks his aid/asylum from danger. They are the type that would both clash horribly because they are so alike, or be brought together in the next minute because they are so alike they understand each other. I'm running with that and I'll hope it fits the requestee's desires._

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><p>Falling through torturous, cutting, icy air and the awful burn of it against her alabaster skin, a cold even she could feel; that was what she remembers at the forefront of her mind when her verdant eyes flicker open. The painfully bright sun forced her to close them again, fluttering her thick black lashes to shelter them from the shooting headache it caused. A weak groan rose from her lily throat as she brought a hand up to her throbbing temple. The motion was sluggish but so were the workings of her mind. She registered the burning pain just fine but the following logic of understanding the reason behind it was a far more complex problem.<p>

The black leather on her arms and waist creaked with her movement; it was still cold compared to the heavy green fabric that had taken on the warmth of the ground and she shivered - It was rare that she felt the chill so this place was either very cold or she was on the edge of illness. Whatever beating she had taken was not one meant for her svelte, delicate body or her exquisite skin. Whatever she obviously battled did not know how to properly treat a fine lady of her standing. She was a princess after all! Not that she could not battle with the best of warriors, she could and did, but bruises were not becoming.

The air smells peculiar and foul as her parted lips took in a desperate gulp to her lungs. What she hopped would be soothing turned out to make it worse and she jolt upright, coughing from the thick stench and bitter taste. The gold coins and delicate chains woven into her hair jingled as she gagged. It smelled like a Bilgesnipe and her eyes opened to discover if that was indeed the problem. Her glassy eyes swept what they could of her surroundings without moving too much but she saw only open land, anomalous trees, and apparently a very stagnate pond beside her that must account for the stench. At least it was not a cluster of monsters.

Loki's eyes shot open fully, her raven curls spilling off her shoulders to frame her slender face like wrinkled dark curtains. Monsters, now she remembered. Monsters ... **Jotunn** for example, with sharp claws and red eyes. She was a monster, she was a Laufadottir. The air suddenly seemed even harder to pull in with her throat threatening to close. Her arms coiled around her stomach as it clenched violently, a thick wave of nausea washing over her and she wound her fingers tightly into her green cape for something tangible to clutch. Wherever she was now she had come after her fight with her-with Thor on the bridge after he returned to Asgard.

She slowly withered back onto the grassy spot, dry and dead grass though it was. Her head and body throbbed even more now but she could not find it in herself to conjure any magic to repair it. With her memory came the desolate, bitter feeling she had since speaking with Odin in the vault. She wished it could all have been a battle induced dream but she knew better. The despair threatened to swell within her and she could feel the sting of tears welling behind her eyes so she forced those away quickly. She had always been good at compartmentalizing and ignoring emotions she could not endure to shove them to the farthest regions on her mind.

As she lie still though, she wiggled her fingers, toes, and flexed muscles to assess the damage. She lifted her legs enough to see them without excessive movement and took note with disgust that her stockings were torn, her favorites, blood made the dark material glisten. Her decorative gold belt, her vambraces, and armor were scuffed when she looked at it, a few dents, but nothing too horrible. After a few minutes she decided nothing especially vital had taken damage, nothing broken, or if there had been, her magic had already fixed it unbidden. Some blood had spilled, maybe a fair amount of it if all the random scrapes and the deeper cuts peppering her body were any indication. Lots of bruises and gashes but she would live; fortunately or unfortunately, whatever the case might be. They would heal quickly.

Her chest heaved in a long sigh, arms draped around herself as she fingered the cloth of her once queenly cape. Queenly ... Anger sparked behind her eyes as she let memories swept through her. She had been queen since Odin slipped into slumber with her mother faithfully chained to his side and the prince was banished. It really was not fair! She had done everything, sold out her blood father and even herself to prove to Odin that she had **chosen** him as her father. Everything she was and could have been, she gave to that sleeping old man, but it had not mattered. Her **family **threw her away like an old and rusted sword they were tired of. So much for love and family! So much for loyalty!

Though she had not the time to do a great deal as queen and was not exactly the most loved, she was still the ruler. They had no right to challenge her, to overthrow her, to defy her, but they had. Thor's friends and the Gate keeper committed treason no matter how they attempted to deny it. They followed after Thor like treasonous dogs panting and lapping at his feet!

Thor, of course, was the adored prince of Asgard, perfect son, and next in succession but at least she had beaten him to the throne. She wielded Gungnir, she sat upon Hlidskjalf! At least she did have that on him; he could never again be the first of Odin's children, adopted or not, to sit upon that throne! Loki had taken that piece of history away from him. It was something she could claim if nothing else.

She deflated, the anger shifting to dread and defeat as quickly as the hate had sickened her. She had been queen, for Norn sake! Look at her now, in some field with scratches and scrapes like a beggar. There was not a great deal to cling to. At least life could not drop her much farther than this, she could be glad of that.

Oh! She half smiled when she saw glints of gold a little distance away and recognized the shape as her helm. At least she would have that here - a gift from Odin and Frigga - wherever this land happened to be. It could have been Vanaheimr but a remote part to be sure. She could endure that since she had a few allies there, it would not be a complete loss.

A rumbling sound caught her attention and she lifted herself into a sitting position to look to the woods. Perhaps it was an animal since it sounded suspiciously like a growl. She brushed the hair away from her face as she scanned the sorry looking trees for signs of life, glaring into them. She really was not in the mood for beast to crawl out of hiding. Maybe there were Snipes around after all, in which case, she should have thought better of how life could not take her much lower.

Dark, shining gray eyes looked back at her as the hairless animal; no, sickly human, slunk forward. Humans were getting much more ugly as the years went on; that gaunt body with gray skin draped carelessly over bone, jagged teeth, little to no hair, pointed ears, crude weapon in a gnarled hand. It was drooling like a dog as it snarled at her in a strangled snort. Loki's sculpted brow turned down in a contemplative scowl, crinkling her nose is utter repulsion as she looked it over. It was pungent like rotting flesh and walked with a graceless wobble. That did not look like the humans she had seen when she visited Thor, not even close. This creature looked dead or worse, like a mixture of human and Jotunn gone extremely wrong.

It growled loudly as it stepped closer, a blueish tongue licking out like a snake, and she rolled swiftly to her feet, summoning her longest dagger from subspace. It needed to be put down, that was all there was to it. Monsters had to die after all, it was a rule she had grown up knowing even if she was not sure where that left her in the grand scheme. A flick of her wrist sent the point deep into its eye socket and it dropped without further sound.

It clearly was a mutation of some kind, an unfortunate spec on life. She did not pity it this end, in fact, she felt nothing at all, not for putting down a bug. She summoned the blade back to her hand and glanced at it. Black blood, also not a human trait. Irritably, she swiped it over the ground to clean it as she walked toward her helmet.

The walking, even gingerly, let her notice all the unpleasant pains in her legs and hips but she stubbornly ignored it as she stomped through the grass. She was grateful for her high boots because the sharp, tall patches of grass wound rip her leggings even more. Her fingers locked around one of the horns of her helm and she lifted it up, delicately brushing dried grass from it before easing it onto her head. Wearing it always made her feel oddly right with the world, more powerful and intimidating. She looked much better than Lady Sif in one. Horns were better than feathers any day!

Now she simply must find civiliza-

A twig snapped behind her and she acted upon every lesson she had ever had in her life, swinging back with all her might with the dagger still between her fingers and lunging back at the foe she felt but had yet to look upon. The point drove deep into the huge, wolf-like beast's chest, and she dodged as it slumped in place, huge teeth bared as the light went out in the eyes. With a furious cry, pulling it from bone, Loki drew back the blade and swung behind her once again to drive her weapon into the shorter humanoid's neck. It gurgled grotesquely, clutching at her hips with slimy hands as it fell. She shivered it disgust, nose wrinkling, glancing at the grime on her clothing from its touch. There was not a great deal of time to morn filth touching her after she looked up to find more of the same beasts swarming from the cover of the trees.

Her eyes widened in dismay and she took a wary step back, fighting the equal balance of fear and disgust at the sight of so many hideous creatures. Not even one looked fully alive nor smelled it. It was like Jotunhiem all over again except Thor and the others were not with her, she was alone. Her head swiveled from side to side, crouching in a defensive stance as she backed away. The beasts were coming like ants leaving their hill, eyes fixed on her as they spread out to close her in.

She could not remember the last time she had been in a battle without the bunch of them being with her. It felt wrong and she felt a cloying fear that she seldom had cause to know; a fear that she might not win against the hoard coming at her and the thought of being touched again was awful but worse was the hungry looks on their hideous faces that told her they intended to rip her flesh from her bones if they gained the opportunity.

She wanted Thor! For once she desperately wanted to see her big brother, unkept face, irritating grin, and that hammer of his ... but he would not come. She had no one to call for help.

Loki forced the thought aside and worked on what she did best, strategizing. Her heart was pounding in her ears, breathing hard to steady, making it difficult to hear them but the snarling was more than loud enough to make it over her internal panic. The first thing she was forced to realize was that those were not humans and those were not regular wolves. These beasts were none she had ever seen, though similar to some others of different realms. She did not know their mental capacity, though she was sure it had to be low, nor did she know their weaknesses. The humanoid ones were slow enough but the dogs were very quick and very large. She noticed that some of them were riding the dogs as they prowled forward.

She needed to get away from them and confuse them, that she knew without any real trouble. Distance was one of the biggest things screaming in her head at the moment and she was inclined to give into the desire for it. Sending out a large group of doubles was the best way she had always found to confound and stall an enemy, so she swiftly cast the magic and swarmed them with as many duplicates of herself as she could without draining her energy.

With the clones blocking their view of her, she retreated. Pain shot up her right ankle but she ignored that as she had everything else. Running was the logical option against that many opponents. Thor would call her a coward and degrade her feminine ways, as he always did, but she knew she was in the right. Why die just to prove you were not only brave but clearly stupid? Not her, she would use her "tricks" and she would survive as she always had. She could not let them surround her so she needed to pick them off as they chased her.

Her black tresses flew behind her, cape draped over one arm to ensure she did not trip over it in her haste. Air cycled swiftly in and out of her lungs, her jaw slack with her deep breaths. Her magic was so low, so depleted that it would take massive amounts of rest to gain it back, but before that she would simply have to deal with the continual feeling of sluggishness. This was no time for respite.

A glance back told her they really were as stupid as she hoped, all following the various clones with all the gusto their hungry, clumsy bodies could. The dogs, as she thought, were the real problem. They were tearing away the duplicates, catching up to them and going right through them, thus finding them to be fakes not worth chasing. The continued illusion was enough to confuse them but two dogs were already galloping toward her, abandoning the illusions for what they could smell.

She could hear the heavy paws pounding the ground behind her as she fled toward the only cover she could find, more trees, tall and thick ones. It was her very best, or maybe only option considering there had to be a hundred monsters behind her by now. She was fast but she was also hurt and as much as she struggled to push past it, it was slowing her.

The trees were so close, but those beasts were too! She dared not allow herself to think of the potential that there were more on this side because if she did she might just give up. Loki summoned more of her throwing knives to her hand and hurled them, awkwardly turning her torso, desperately hoping nothing unseen was around to trip her, and aiming for the eyes of those dogs as she ran. A yip and thump told her she at least hit one but she could hear others joining.

Heat from a panting dog blew her hair into her face, mercifully alerting her to the danger and she felt as well as sensed how close it was. She tried not to scream as she ducked low, letting it sail harmlessly over her head. Prey missed, it snarled loudly in irritation, swerving back and kicking up dust as it skidded to right itself in its eagerness to go back for another charge.

She threw another knife but the quivering in her hands made it miss her mark, hitting it between the eyes. It reeled back, stunned, but not dead by any means. She cursed her weak nerves, furious but she had no time to correct it. The thought of living drove her on and she dared not look back as she passed the beast. The only way to live was to stay calm and think clearly about every move and not stop moving for a second. The wolf rared to life moments later, her knife sticking in its skull.

Another blade, her short sword this time, came to her hand and she dropped to her knees the moment she hear its paws leave the ground. As it sailed over her for the second time she sliced upward and ripped into its underbelly. Black moisture hit her it a spray of droplets but she pushed back her repulsion. It screamed and fell with a heavy crash, not getting up this time.

Loki scrambled to her feet and darted ahead once again, dirt and grass kicking up in her rush. Even now she could hear more coming, many more. They had seen her kill the dog and were learning from trial and error that the fakes could not be touched, which left the obvious option even for them.

She twirled and sliced as the dogs came at her on both sides, slicing the throats in one fluid motion with as much force and accuracy as attainable on the run. The riders of the beasts jumped from the backs and made to tackle her but she anticipated such a move, swaying away as they crashed to the ground. They eyed her with toothy snarls as they scrambled to charge, but she had no intention of letting them touch her.

A little voice in her head scolded her for her form, an old battle instructor's voice. Her movements might not have been like Sif's, too much akin to various sword dances of Vanaheimr than a battle, but as she smoothly cleaved the offending head of one and slit the throat of the other, she was quite sure her way was just as effective. As long as they were felled she did not care.

Fast kills were the only way she could stay alive because the minute one of them caught her or slowed her, the others would swarm. Her legs burned as she darted away, stretching them and pumping her muscles with every skid or dodge. She was breathing harder, her movements gradually becoming slower even as she slashed another particularly ugly humanoid head from its place and gutted another in a quick procession. The splatter of blood had already ceased to both her her, killing them falling into a normalcy.

Loki stumbled into the trees, desperately grabbing at them for stability and using them to push forward. They followed like tiny fish coming through a large net, slowed but not hindered in their chase. Still she ran, weaving through the foliage in varying patterns to try to slow the creature's progress; even then, quite a lot were getting near.

She sliced off a few hands that came too close, but still they came, drawing nearer with every second. Her breaths were nearly wheezes, too tired to stop the little screams every time one came terrifyingly close to stopping her. It would not be much longer before they would win by running her into the ground.

Sheer need was often the drive for invention and hers lead to a stray thought she acted upon before really considering it very far, latching onto the first low branch and swinging herself into a tree. She was agile, she always had been, so she could climb and still move through the thick branches. The leaves and branches clutched and clawed at her like hands as she moved but she would not be slowed. The trees were close enough together she had no trouble progressing, leaping from one to another. It was better than staying on ground level with them and it gave her a slight chance. So Loki slithered her way swiftly from tree branch to tree branch, working higher as she went. They still followed but remained on the ground as she prowled overhead.

It did not take much longer before she was forced to stop, body screaming for reprieve, crouching in a thick patch of leaves of its own will. She was panting, her head swimming and limbs trembling violently from the strain and overexertion. The structure of her ribs was taking a pounding from her heart even though she was still. Had she not been Aesir she knew she would have dropped some time ago.

Small miracles were still with her because she was still alive. They could not climb trees fast enough and she was thinning their ranks by running out of their reach. Many of them continued running along the ground, not having seen her duck down, others seemed to think she had stopped but could not tell exactly where she was and seemed unwilling or uneasy with staying in one place.

She watched silently from her perch, hand over her mouth to quiet her labored breathing as she leaned her full weight against the tree. The bark was rough against her face and arms but by now she hardly noticed and could not have cared less. It felt good to be still and she found her eyes shutting of their own accord, her will to stop them was running low. Rest was one thing she needed badly and she had no choice but to take it now, her body refused to move farther.

A surface, light sleep was upon her fast and it felt so blissful. The fall had taken quite a bit out of her but to have to battle after that was even worse. How long she stayed that way was beyond her with no way to tell time. The forest was largely cut off from the light and fresh air too, which did not help her stay awake either. Thin air meant lightheaded sensations for anyone not used to it, or as it was for her, exhausted individuals.

Several warning voices in her head kept her from falling deep into sleep but she was satisfied with what she could come by. It did not last long though, she was startled awake when the quiet the creatures left behind with their absence was blemished. Roaring, and animalistic screeches filled the air from seemingly every direction.

Fear spiked in her again, her body coiled tight with tension as she tried to pinpoint the sound unsuccessfully, hearing it as if the forest swirled it in all directions intentionally. Loki stayed perfectly still, hardly breathing, eyes wide, waiting for whatever battle was occurring to arrive back at her feet, but the sound stopped as suddenly as it began.

Fresh fear spurred her muscles to move again by sheer force of will, not caring to see what occurred. Her legs carried her as silently in a new direction, one she hoped was away from the carnage she supposed had been the cause of the noise. The bark of the trees scraping her soles was her only tell, and she hoped it was not heard. If nothing more, she was thankful her boots were less like Thor's, more suited for creeping than clunking.

Something caught her arm, jerking her to a sudden stop, her feet slipping from the branch to make her scramble wildly to catch another. The grip on her arm kept her from falling, dangling her precariously like a puppet until she kicked herself back onto a limb. Her heart was in her throat for the hundredth time of the day, teeth gritted to keep herself silent as she clawed with her free arm at the substance until she saw it with more clarity and a great degree of relief. Even so, her left eyes twitched in another round of disgust as she peeled away the thick bunch of sticky webbing, mentally cursing the wilds for all the things they kept that a palace intentionally rid itself of. Bugs were never her favorite pest and she was never interested in them the way Thor and Volstagg had been.

To her the world would be just fine without them. She must have run into a whole nest of them for how thick the web was and she shuddered and brushed at her hair and clothing. Her imagination had her skin crawling at the thought of how many might be on her. It was disturbing to even think of but she found no black moving dots on her person so she considered herself fortunate.

The scrambling did bring a different discovery though. Further damage to her garb, which drew a snarl from her lips as she brushed vengefully at the material. The Norns had it out for her garments! The once beautiful, though thankfully battle appropriate - split to the hips on both sides to ensure running was not hindered- skirt, another favorite of hers with gold scroll inlay to the green and black leather, was ripped.

Well, no use mourning what was ruined, she would have to admit. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she might be able to repair it later, after she was off the insufferable location.

There were bigger issues to worry over and she needed to keep moving, to get away, so she began again. On light feet she continued on over the branches but breathing continued to be a task with the stale, oppressive thickness of it. The realms air was not at all to her taste, each area holding its own unpleasant stench. When she returned to Asgard she would never visit this area again.

Her steps halted, breath hitching as she remembered the bridge, or lack of one and a new sickness swept over her, eyes clamped shut. The Bifrost was gone, which meant there was no way home. There was likely a rip in Yggdrasil here but it would take her ages to find in an unfamiliar world, if she could find it at all, if she did not die first. There was no way at all to know how large this realm was and she was quite sure now that it was not Vanaheimr as she first supposed. Heimdall was not in any condition to find her even if he did not refuse to do so ... or even if her family cared to search for her at all, and they indeed might not.

The trees began to close in on her and the world started to spin as black formed at the corners of her vision. It was not hard to know what was happening but she could not stop the stone cold panic from rushing in as her breaths came in gasps. She crouched down onto the trunk of a tree and curled in on herself.

There was a chance she would not be going anywhere any time soon. It was possible that going back home was no longer possible and from her experience of the realm so far, that thought terrified her enough to make her body tremble uncontrollably. There was no way she could last indefinitely on this wretched land. It would be the death of her eventually without any understanding of the area.

She did not want to be here, she wanted to go home! She would die here! She did not want to die; did not want to be eaten alive or starve to death! Loki needed Odin and Frigga. She needed Thor and the Warriors! She needed her home and her books and her room! This had all been like a nightmare since that Jotunn touched her; no, the nightmare started the moment Odin announced he was handing the throne over to Thor. The horrors began the moment her hand was forced in order to stop the ruination of Asgard. It had been one hellish event after the next ever since. None of this should have been happening to her! She should be in Asgard with a family that still loved her and would protect her!

Tears began to sting and burn the backs of her eyes but she struggled to hold back the sob hiding in the back of her throat. The rage and hate flared in her chest anew. She had nothing else to cling to, nothing else to hold to stop herself from plummeting and the dark emotion was as good as anything else. Loki growled the way Thor usually did when he was brimming with anger.

All of this was Thor's fault! She would not give him the satisfaction of reducing her to a weeping mess! Just because she was a woman did not mean she was weak! She was a Queen! Odin could not say differently! She was equal to any man, and warrior, any foolish prince! She was no damsel that needed a man to save her!

Leaves rustled over her head, which would be normal in a forest save for the simple fact that there was no breeze. Her breath caught and muscles coiled, dread tickling her senses instantly as she hesitantly turned her eyes upward.

A furry, rough set of legs was the first thing she saw, multiple black eyes and moving mandibles was second. Her mind screamed one word as she shrieked and scrambled down branches much faster than she normally would have thought herself able, even for an Aesir. The spider, **huge** spider was above her so the only solution her horrified consciousness could draw forth was to go down, away from it. Had she been thinking more clearly beyond, giant spider, she would have known getting on the ground would not help. But "giant, damn spider" was as far as she was getting.

Her previous thread of thought had suddenly changed. Now she wanted someone to save her! Someone could come save her any time at all! Thor could tease her for centuries to come as long as he killed that thing! She would hug him and tell him a thousand times how sorry she was for everything if he would just swing than hammer right into that hideous head!


	2. This is Mirkwood

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_This is Mirkwood_

*Tolkien

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

_AN: More action and we get to see Thranduil and Legolas! Hope you're excited now!_

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><p>They screamed like monsters, she discovered as she had sliced through several disgustingly hairy legs to get away from them. Loki's figure was a blur of black, green, gold, and faster streaks of silver as she darted through the ranks of spiders. They were easy enough to kill as long as she did not step into the webbing littered everywhere or as long as those fangs stayed away from her. These creatures relied on their numbers to kill rather than on individual skill. That seemed to be a trend among the flesh eating monsters of the realm she had landed on.<p>

No matter how she wished it, no one came to help her and when they began dropping all around her, survival instincts shoved past her fear of these monsters from bad dreams. Even as she cut through them, running and ducking around them, she kept a hope alive in her mind that it was just that, a dream.

The Aesir Princess turned temporary Queen was fast and light on her feet. She floated like a feather and struck like a snake, never staying still or holding to patterns. Her fighting method had always been a vicious, calculating balance of quick strikes and weakness exploitation. Turning their strength and size against them with her fluid motion and fast mind was her best strategy. Throwing multiple duplicates and illusions into the mix was always equally helpful in confusing adversaries. Staying alive against so many was all about striking with precision and never, ever stopping for breath. She knew the moment she paused or slowed would be the time she would die.

Their blood was in her hair, flecks of it speckling her exposed skin and staining her garments. Her blades too were drenched and dripping, but still they came like an unending trickle of water in a rain storm. The once unblemished, flowing cape she favored was tattered now even though it survived the fall and the first influx of monsters. There was a set of holes where the fangs of one spider caught the material rather than flesh. She would lament yet another blow to her completely limited garment collection at some point in which her life was not endangered. This was not that time!

The clothes on her person were not the only things suffering; no, muscles screamed, wounds burned, lungs ached, her head span, her heart raced, and her reflexes were slowing. Her mind knew that she would not last forever and that her body would give out very soon but her need to survive refused to hear the sickening truth, so she fought on, desperately searching for clearings or openings. If she could find a way out of the swarm it would at least offer her a chance.

She knew they were faster in the trees and on the ground than she, more legs as an unfair advantage. Running high or low would be equally useless. Finding a way to bottleneck them was another matter. If she could find a narrow space that restricted them she would have a chance to take them down at her own pace.

The last of her adrenaline was wearing thin and she knew that too. There was only so much energy and stamina in even an Aesir form. She did not wear down as fast as a human but wear down she did, eventually. No living being could go on forever without respite and she had been offered little since her encounter with the humanoid monsters. Depleted magic was another drain on her body as it tried to draw from her in order to renew itself. Her legs were shaking and her arms burned with every swing or tilt of her wrists. Even her throwing knives seemed heavier. Her full lips were parted as she drew heavy cycles of the thick air.

The dangers of the place were clearly vast, too much for any alone to stand against but those were dark thoughts she did not have time for. Loki focused only on the slice of her blades through thick exoskeleton, the snaps of twigs to signal their locations, the ground beneath her, and the placement of the sticky webbing littering the area.

A light thump and brush alerted her to a new presence behind her and she whirled, blade of her sword singing with the rush of air as she brought it into the head of the spider. Round green eyes widened as she realized she had struck metal rather than bone; another blade with hands, arms, face, and a body attached. The shock swept her features unhidden as she met big, self assured, scrutinizing, blue-gray eyes.

She flinched as an arrow hissed by her and into a spider. Another person dropped down behind her, arrow poised at the ready, fingers letting it fly with practiced perfection she had never before seen with a primitive weapon. Her blade was tossed to the side with ease as the first man, or she was fairly sure it was male, swept twin blades through another arachnid.

Loki was stunned as she looked in all directions at the influx of humanoids welding all manner of weaponry. They reminded her of Ljósálfar in their willow forms and fluid motion but they were not quite fitting of that realm. She was stunned by their arrival and dazed by the long stretch of battle, just watching them glide by her at first, coming alive only when a spider nearly landed on her. An arrow protruded from its side as it twitched but she sliced into it anyway, but her body was shaking.

The black at the corner of her vision had been growing steadily as had the dizziness but now that seeming help had arrived it was suddenly overwhelming. She was struggling just to stay on her feet and her posture easily could have shown as much. All she wanted to do was fall at her potential saviors feet but there really was no way to be sure they were any less dangerous than her first encounters. The record made it hard to think this realm capable of friendly creatures.

"Os-'o adel din!" One of them yelled, and the others began to shift positions in response. Not a language Loki recognized, which confirmed she had never been in this world before.

Her breathing was labored but she tried hard to even it, still holding her long sword ready at her side and her daggers linked in her fingers. She could not surrender to the swelling darkness, she knew, lest these also be adversaries, but it was a mighty struggle to hold herself back from the edge. Just because they had not killed her yet did not mean anything and a voice screamed at her that she was a queen, and queen's did not show weakness to anyone. Fight to the end, there were countless times she heard that chorus play.

The remaining giant spiders began to retreat and several of her current rescuers pursued them through the trees like birds chasing worms, but a number of the company remained in place amidst the carnage. Loki's shoulders slumped slightly as eyes began to turn back to her. There were times she despised her tendency of being right.

With the clear common enemy vanquished they could turn their attention upon the secondary threat. She glanced from side to side as they began tightening the circle, closing ranks around her like a net, blades and arrows pointing dangerously at vital points. Some were on the ground while others perched in trees as easily as if they were born to it, which she could only guess they must have been. These were not the dull creatures she faced before, that was obvious in the way they conducted themselves and even in the sharpness of their eyes.

Her feet shuffled her back but she halted, the rustling of leaves told her they were behind her even without turning to look. A very thorough trap indeed. There was no way she could fight them and win when she was so beyond her limits but some part of her could not simply relent without the slightest bit of resistance, it would be weak. The sword was harder to hold steady than it ever should have been, and even with all her effort, it still shook slightly, enough to be notable. She cursed her waning magic and energy, she still needed it.

"Daro! Sí!" A mousy looking one with hair the color of fire and arrow aimed at Loki's eye socket barked.

That had to be an order, which instantly set her teeth to grind. The situation made the commands nature easy enough to guess since there were only so many things they could want. Loki narrowed her eyes at the little female, and she was female if figures were the same in this realm. Seeming threatening when she was so near collapse, if not unconsciousness, should have been commended. Loki had always been known for her acting skills and "silver tongue" but that in and of itself would not save her; especially if they could not understand her. She would try anyway.

Her feet moved her in a small circle as she assessed her situation, and it was a dilemma. It was obvious they could kill her with one shot but instead they surrounded her like a common outlaw, which did not sit well with her.

One with light hair and braids traveling the curve of his pointed ears, twin blades aimed to slice off her head, spoke in a fluid though angry tone as he stepped a stride closer. "Avam nathlad ettelin min dorem. Man i theled i oduleg hí?"

Loki swung her blade in an upward slice, forcing him to duck back while she let her daggers fly at the individuals she could see. They scattered at once but returned faster than she could have anticipated. She rolled instantly to the side, pivoting on her good leg to avoid the arrows she knew would fall, hearing them zing predictably into the dirt, but multiple figures blocked her way as she tried to run. Blade extended, she swung it wide to clear a path but that little move proved to be ill advised as the arrow from the female flew at her head. Had her reflexes been better she would have simply caught it, perhaps used it as an additional weapon, but she narrowly-far too narrowly for comfort-missed batting it away with her sword. She backed against a tree to give just a little less of a target to those she knew lurked behind her and glared at the archer.

This troop was not used to missing though, it was obvious by the looks of surprise mixed with anger in their faces. Missing a target must have hit as many nerves to them as it would in Thor if his hammer was deflected. Loki smirked with the tiny victory of watching color drain from the girls face for a fraction on a second. They must not miss targets at all, she guessed. Good! Now they might be more worried over who they were dealing with. She would ignore how that much motion stirred and surged the dizziness back to full force in favor of a victory.

The lead male lunged at her with a speed she had seldom encountered in any but herself; his blades slicing air and nearly embedding in the tree when she jumped out of range. Pain shot through her right leg as a price, forcing her into a crouch on her knees and she nearly toppled fully to the ground. Her vision blurred almost totally into black for a moment and by the time she recovered it, they had moved again, closer, and with more than the leader's blades at her throat. Her lashes fluttered several times to clear the haze, and she shifted her weight back only to feel cold metal cupping the back of her neck.

Loki lifted her chin as the blonde slid the point of his sword over her pulse. It might be time to play the damsel at this point, all but a few were male, so she let a whimper slip free. She should not have swung at him, she could have tried a better tactic, such as this. But it always had been in her nature to make enemies rather than friends ... monsters were just that way.

He arched his brow, leaning closer, his voice dark in warning, "Devig?"

She locked eyes with him, taking care to seem as if she was simply considering the meaning rather than stalling. That word, considering they had her pinned and were not finishing her could be only one request. It was not a question she had ever been skilled at acquiescing to though, not in all her life. If she could barter time for herself she might regain her strength but the threatening way his gaze narrowed the longer she kept her fingers wrapped around her remaining blade made it infinitely clear she could buy no more.

"Listen." Loki began soothingly, swallowing around the point of the blade, "I realize I have trespassed upon your territory but I hold no ill intent against you or your people. I sought only to escape those foul creatures. If you grant me passage I will endeavor never to trouble you again."

The blank expression she supposed she wore previously was mirrored on a greater scale as she looked over the faces. That had not gone off as well as she would have liked.

There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again, "Istog peded edhellen? Heniog?" The tone made her believe it was a question, but what the answer should be was well beyond her reach.

Her lack of response and prolonged blank stare to his fixed one seemed to answer for her and a look of annoyance crinkled his brows together.

Clearly deciding he needed a new method of communication he pointed at her sword with emphasis. Surrender was the obvious message and no acting in the world could make her seem ignorant enough of it. She did not want to die and she had no plans to perish on this horrible soil but handing her personal blade over was a matter of pride to any Aesir. They could not have it and that was final, but she had no choice. The fights had depleted her magic so much that she could use no more, not even returning the blades to negative space.

Slender, weary arms relaxed and she slowly uncurled her fingers from the hilt, then shoved it to the side with her knee, never breaking eye contact. Two darker haired males moved in to snatch it up and she watched with poorly veiled anger as it was taken with her daggers.

Her rage only grew as another took hold of one of her horns and tugged her helm from her head, spilling her dark hair into her face. A few whispered quickly as if they were surprised to find a normal head under it. The same male grabbed her chin and shifted her head to the side as if seeing her face and neck better should confirm something. It did not confirm anything they seemed to expect and she jerked away from the cool touch.

All eyes widened but she did not move further as she lowered her head, shifting away from the various sharp points, fingers splayed, palms down and at her side in a show of submission. "Please, I surrender to you." She whined softly in pleading, glad no one was here to witness her pouting.

The two originally reaching for her weapons turned their hands to her now as they began to charter among themselves. The chatter was different but they all spoke of someone or something called "Firiel." The blonde and redhead snapped similar sounding commands at the group and all stilled. They were confused or upset over something and she desperately wished she knew what but that would not happen until she restored her magic, until that happened she would be forced to stay in the dark.

Loki hissed in pain as she was jerked roughly to her feet and the blonde leader stepped closer until he was almost near enough to kiss her, but he growled what she guessed was an order to the men instead. She remained still as their fingers dug into her tender arms, holding those huge eyes without blinking as they bound her quickly. There was no use in speaking when all the careful words would fall uselessly so she did not bother with more than a few whines at how tightly they gripped her.

Everything after that was a blur as they dragged her away and she allowed her mind to switch off to a large degree. Her eyes were half lidded, shutting down. The only things she was aware of was how desperately tired she was and she only left enough of her mind alert to keep herself walking and standing. She did not really watch where they took her, only moderately registering the change in air and light when they entered a structure.

They marched her lower and lower until they met other guards. The blonde and red haired leaders seemed to pawn her off on them and she let her guards move her as they pleased. She no longer had it in her to care. It was not a fight for her life now so she could switch herself into recovery. The only option was to preserve and gather energy as quickly as possible for escape, which meant there could be no more fighting. Let them lock her away, it would give her time to build her magic.

Loki squeaked in surprise when the guard shoved her toward the stairs and she noticed for the first time there were no rails to hold or catch herself on. Her heart pounded as she hugged the only wall, tilting her face away from them, having had enough of a look down to tell her she would be in no condition for a fall that long at her level of sedir.

"Aphado ven." The one that shoved her snarled.

"Ven ú-chenia." The softer voice of the female red-haired leader spoke as an apparent answer.

A few more words were spoke between the leaders and guards but she stopped trying to listen. The bruits with large helmets and heavy armor on were gentler with her after the conversation but they lead her directly to a cold, damp place and delivered her to a cell. Loki curled up on the floor and did not move again. Magic was flickering all over the bars, all over the walls and ceiling but even that hardly caught her attention. She determined that she could take time later for observation after she rested. Without rest it would be useless anyway. She slipped into a deep sleep within minutes despite the cold, hard floor and magic shoving at her senses.

* * *

><p>A voice stirred her after some time, how much she could not say. It was a voice she knew though and she eased herself into a sitting position, eyes flickering open to stare at the handsome young blonde with twin blades. His blue-gray eyes were larger than most and she could not help feeling swallowed by them when he stared at her so intently. He looked confident in spite of his youth, arms linked stoically behind him as he stood on the free side of the bars.<p>

Loki ran her fingers over her hair to smooth it back and out of her face. He looked so polished she hated to think how she must look. There must still be monster blood all over her and webs and grass too. When she fell into sleep she had not even thought about how she must appear after the wild day she had. It was shameful to even think about it.

His foot tapping on the stone floor brought her out of her musing enough to realize he had been speaking again but she would not have understood him even if she listened. Her green eyes lifted to his face all the same as he spoke on. Something told her he might be trying various local languages on her by the way his tone kept changing and his look of irritation grew.

Loki finally shook her head, closing her eyes, "I am appreciative that you are making an effort but I do not believe we will gain any ground until I am able to use my magic again." She felt free to say what she wanted because he could not understand her.

His confused expression spoke truth to her thoughts and she could not resist a smile. If she really had the desire to, she could tell this boy all her troubles and spill her heart out of all the negative feelings she hid from everyone. If she wanted to, that was, which she did not. Giving them voice would not help her now, it was too late for that.

After a moment he brought a hand from behind his back to reveal a cup and he extended it through the bars. She sat up a bit more, warily eyeing it. It could easily have been poisoned, or they might have a potion of some nasty nature in it that would cause mind control. Maybe that was what they did to prisoners. There was no way to know what it was. It might be undrinkable if it was taken from places like that swamp she had fallen beside. Even so, she was thirsty and she needed food and water to regain her power.

Judging by the scowl growing on his face, he guessed her line of thought and drew the cup back, muttering to himself as he turned and walked away.

A twinge of panic hit her at the thought of having scared away her only source of food or water and she scampered to her feet to grip the bars, "Wait, wait, don't go!" She could thank the Norns that Thor could not see her reduced to pleading. "Please, come back? I'm sorry I upset you, truly!"

Very slowly, he turned back to face her, deliberate heel to toe steps bringing him back to her cage, "Ídhrodh nên?" His other hand produced what she guessed was food, bread perhaps, "Ídhrog mass?"

Loki tentatively reached for them but he took a step back and chided her with words she still did not understand. A sinking feeling dropped in her chest and she looked at the proffered items that were no longer attainable, "Fine. I was only humoring you anyway."

Her eyes dropped the his feet, brows knit together in an attempt to hold her temper. This was a great deal more frustrating than she would have thought. Not understanding the world around her would drive her utterly mad before she gained her abilities back. It was unfair! She gripped the bars in irritation before she turned her back.

He was playing a game with her now and she would not entertain him like a pet. She would not grovel for food and water for his amusement. If he was holding it for answers it was no better because she could not give them. She walked to the back of the cell and lowered herself to the floor once again. Her arms moved to cover her chest as she stared at the wall in silence, seething to herself.

It was cold down here, which felt strange. She had never been cold, not terribly, before even on colder planets. It made her curious of what more happened to her in that fall. Perhaps she had yet to fully thaw from the deathly cold of the void she fell into. It was difficult to tell.

He left nearly silently and she glanced back to see if he might have left the cup at least, but to her disappointment, he took it with him. Rotten little bastard. She would never trust him again! This new race might not have been intent on chewing her bones but she was not so sure she liked them any better that the first two. They were more aesthetically pleasing, more normal to her eye, but they were prudish.

Back on her own realm they always chastised her for her attitude. Well, now she could point out that she had company!

* * *

><p>The spiraling pillars of living rock wound in all direction, up and away to create the pathways, caverns and rooms the woodland realm called home. Stone and rock were woven flawlessly with twining roots and fractions of living trees from far above. The hanging lights and candles swayed and flickered with hot motion to bring warmth to the under earth of their castle.<p>

A tall, svelte figure with silken, flowing tresses of warm silver hair stood in a stately crimson and glistening robe. He paced slowly in a tight circle, hem of the garment tracing the floor as he moved. His dark brows were turned down, only slightly marring flawless features carved of stone, not unlike the beautiful living stone of his kingdom in nature, cold and harshly unforgiving, but beautiful and majestic all the same. He had the look of one that had long ago forgotten how to smile, not unlike most of his people, but more so from the weighty responsibility resting atop his head.

The twisting and sharp edged symbol of that weight, the crown of wood and berries curved around his head as a distinguishing diacritic of his position. It curved delicately to frame his elongated ears and rise up in a uniform mimicry of antlers.

Thranduil stilled to look the two before him over with cool examination of his year sharpened scrutiny. "Continue."

His audience consisted of a fiery sprite of a captain of his guard, the lovely but willful Tauriel of the Silvan elves and his contrasting young, fervid heir. The two contrasted in looks but not the fire nor strength of will and stubbornness hidden under polite stances and easy nods. Before him stood the biggest trouble makers of his realm, but also its most avid and capable defenders.

The Elven King had never been known to welcome guests into his borders, especially those wielding magic and weapons he knew nothing about. One of her blades rested in his chamber and he had spent some time examining the unfamiliar designs and crafting of the sword. It could have been crafted by a new metal worker, some unknown dwarf attempting to make a name for his family, but it was doubtful. The work was not elvish nor dwarfish that he had ever seen and that alone interested and worried him. The headpiece was also a bit of a worry, but he left that in his own revere.

With his father stilled, Legolas took to pacing as if to balance the stillness. "We thought her one of Elrond's or perhaps a rogue of some sort. She used magic to create illusions that we saw and she moved with sharp reflexes and grace of our kin... but she is human." Legolas paced slowly beside the steps of his father's throne, eyes cast to the ground in bemusement.

"Perhaps," Thranduil spoke in his usual slowly, ridged, low tone, "she is simply of lower birth, blood further mixed with humans."

Legolas lifted his eyes and said, "But she does not know our tongue. It is quite strange and gives me an ill feeling of something being amiss."

A huff escaped his father, "She is quite likely feigning ignorance."

"I considered that, but I already tested it. I offered her food and water if she would give me her name or where she hails from but she continued to speak that strange tongue." Legolas persisted, appealing to his father's logic, thinking his words were falling on deaf ears even though all was indeed being considered.

This gave the king pause as he pondered it. "It is possible she was an unwanted child, abandoned and thus never learned to speak as we. There are too many variations of human language to know them all." The Elvenking offered with a wave of his hang, the rings on his fingers catching the light and making it dance like a prism.

He liked this guest less and less the more he learned of her. Such a presence undoubtedly meant nothing good for his people. Whatever danger she brought, he cared nothing for it. It was safest to keep her locked away to rot in his prison until she expired like all humans did.

"I am uncertain. I feel something very strange when I am near her, an unease." Legolas walked more slowly, eyes cast to the floor.

Thranduil turned quizzical, steely eyes on his captain, "And what was your impression of this girl, Tauriel? What sense does she draw from you?"

Forest eyes lifted to meet his for a moment before respectfully lowering them and speaking carefully, "I agree with your son. There is magic hovering just under the surface of her that I have never felt. She is like no elleth or human I have had cause to meet."

Eyes again cast to the floor, Legolas nodded slowly, "It might be best if you also examine her, Adar."

An elegant dip of his head signaled his assent, "Very well. Have her brought to me tomorrow so that I may see for myself this creature that evaded your arrows."

Turning, robes gliding behind him, the king left the two younger elves standing before an empty throne. They watched him leave before exiting another way together. The glimmering throne room is left to silence and the high seat of sculpted bone and antlers is left to await the things to come.

Much farther down in the depths of the dungeons of Mirkwood's realm, Loki too had been left to wait, but much more importantly, left to rest and to plot. The supply of her magic was returning in a slow trickle, like the slow drip of water falling drop by drop into a glass. Slow though it was, it was still returning.

* * *

><p>AN: I left the translation to the end because you know how frustrating it would be for Loki not to have any idea what is being said? Thus readers must suffer with her.<p>

Os-'o adel din! = Go around behind them

Daro! Sí! = Halt/Stop! Now!

Avam nathlad ettelin min dorem. Man i theled i oduleg hí? = We don't welcome strangers into our forest. Why are you here?

Devig? = Do you yield?

Istog peded edhellen? Heniog? = Can you speak Elvish? Do you understand?

Firiel = Mortal One/human (f)

Aphado ven. = Follow us.

Ven ú-chenia = She doesn't understand us.

Ídhrodh nên? Ídhrog mass? = Do you want water? Do you want bread?


	3. Art of Surrender

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_Art of Surrender_

*Tolkien

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

_AN: Loki getting into more trouble, unintentionally making her life worse, I love writing that! Little action in this chapter too, little sass and hints of diva time._

* * *

><p>Emrald eyes drifted open listlessly, then widened as the shock of her surroundings flooded her memory with her current location. She was still on the cold rock floor and there were still bars over the exit. Farther down the steps to her little cell, someone was coming. The metal of his armor tinkled lightly as it hit his legs with every step. That must have been what awakened her.<p>

It did not take long for a young man to appear at her door, holding a tray. His hair was on the dark side of blonde, silken and long like the rest, face thin, but painfully boyish to show just how little of the world he had seen. His sprinkling of armor was very light, touches of metal into his garments, nothing like the guards she had seen before. It would not surprise her to know that he had never ventured from this underworld of safety. Everything about him screamed inexperience from the way his eyes fluttered from her to the floor to the way his hands shook just slightly at the prospect of being near a prisoner.

They clearly were not used to visitors.

Oh, she could work with this! This little sprite would be her key to unlocking all manner of answers. He was afraid of her, intimidated and clearly curious if his eyes told her anything. That in mind, she stood very slowly, letting him watch her every move, and glided closer to the door. She was unsure how age worked in this realm but the closer she came, the younger he seemed. Giving a prisoner food and water might be the closest to battle he had ever been allowed. Working his way up, she guessed.

Canting her head shyly to one side, eyes lowered, she spoke in her sweetest and softest voice, "Did you come to help me, little one? Because I think you did."

A very cute little frown wrinkled the skin between his brows, "Dhen ú-chenion." He was shorter than she was and that forced him to look up.

They still spoke something she did not understand a word of, that had not change over night. She simply had to remedy her total lack of communication! Half her power was behind her ability to deceive, which was hard to do if no one understood her. The realm was either too far out of Yggdrasil for the Alltongue to have hold, or the less pleasant option was the realms magic caused it.

There was a very dark magic dripping from every piece of rock and every root or twig, she had felt it railing against her all night. It was alive and sickening with tainted hostility and malice, perhaps even grief of the forest above. If this dark magic was strong enough, it might interfere with more than just her ability to communicate. It was not a pleasing prospect; if true, she might encounter any number of obstacles to her usually free use of seidr. Weakened by the fall it had likely amplified the dark magics hold against her.

Her magic had built up while she slumbered, she could feel the flourish of it tickling under her skin. It was in no way close to her usual potency but it was enough to be quite helpful if she was very careful with its use. She was not ultimately catatonic because of its lack, at least. It gave her new options to combat the strength of the foreign entity of magic.

"Is that for me, little one?" Her sweet tone seemed to relax him as she motioned at the tray.

She needed that water and food quite badly if she hoped to build her seidr. Loki smiled as he stepped closer and held it out to her. With slow and delicate movement, she took the cup first, bringing it to her lips to drink deeply, not taking the time to savor the odd but sweet taste. If it had been enchanted she was well past caring in favor of quenching her thirst. Being drained of her power left her uncomfortably near a mortal's level of weakness in body.

Loki glanced at him again carefully. Blonde and blue eyed; a trimmer, less repulsive, wider eyed innocent version of Thor. He could have been Fandral without facial hair too. That made it all so much easier!

The empty cup remained cradled in her hands a moment before she replaced in on the tray. She wanted to snatch the uncommon looking flat bread from the dish but knew he would leave the second she had taken it. He was blissfully unaware, but he would be staying longer in her cell than she would. Moving slowly, she reached through the bars as if to take the plate, but rather than taking it, she snatched his wrist, jerking him forward before he had time to realize he was in danger.

Blue eyes shot from her hold on his arm to look into her face in utter shock, probably surprised by her strength of grip and swiftness of motion. Loki did not give him a chance to cry out, a low level incantation already rolling from her lips. It sprung from her fingers to curl around his arm, traveling up his neck to rest upon his head in a green mist. His eyelids fluttered as his body lost its ability to stand, leaving him spineless and toppling him to the floor. Loki flinched when the tray clattered loudly to the floor, waiting to hear the sound of others coming, but after a few moments of silence, she deemed it safe to continue.

Her first try with a low level spell on the door failed and forced her to use a higher level, which meant a bit more seidr expended. This realm held unfamiliar magic, some seeming to be of concerning levels. It galled her to be forced to use more of her much needed reserve on a door but she had little choice. There was nothing to be done, and it was worth the power taken when the door drifted open.

She crouched down on her knees, setting the wooden tray inside the door and nibbling the bread from the fallen plate. Normally she would not touch things that had dropped but at this point she was only grateful it had not rolled off the ledge. She tasted what she guessed to be honey and quite a few herbs of some kind, none she could name, but it was surprisingly good for its ordinary looks.

With cold eyes, she examined the youth's condition to be sure he had not died unexpectedly before she dragged him into the cramped space to close the door again. These creatures, whatever they were, should not have let a prepubescent tend any being with cunning, he was too foolish. Useful, however, to her, with his well crafted dagger. She put his blade to use quickly, pricking her finger in order to write out another incantation to prevent anyone seeing the unconscious boy in with her. Once completed, she felt the little jolt that signaled it taking hold.

Loki let out a long sigh, thankful to have that finished so simply, and she relaxed, sitting on his legs for a more comfortable perch. It had been a long time since she had been forced to rely merely on menial cantrips, runes, and chants. Things would be better once she regained her strength, but it was well enough for the time being. There were many ways around magical blocks.

Now she could take her leisure with him to get exactly what she needed. This spell was intermediate at worst but it took quite a bit of time if she did not wish to drain the magic she had finally gathered back. Having a living native served a much more important purpose than picking his pockets. She glanced down at him, her raven curls trickling over her shoulders. Having been given no way to bathe, she knew she must still look horrid, which desperately annoyed her. That would be remedied soon!

Loki rolled out to cover his body with her own, using him as a temporary divan as she stared into his face. Out of curiosity, she took a little time to examine him, check his eyes, feel the texture of his hair, and especially to examine his ears. Pointed ears were a trait of a few races she knew of, but these were not long enough to be kin to most. She pondered over exactly what race these might be linked to. They looked healthy, no gray skin like the Dark Elves, but they clearly had to be a form of elf.

She let her body relax, closing her eyes and resting her chin on his shoulder before she began the next incantation. Her words drifted clear and light to float her into that mind of his, drawing free from its secrets the tongue of his world, any he knew would be claimed now by the sorceress as well. He was young, so he was likely to be more limited in non-native tongues that would serve no purpose other than confusing the translation, unlike one of the older of his kind she might have used; the one with twin blades might really have cluttered her mind. She could be glad she caught a young one in her net.

Her body went limp as her mind fixed and tapped into all those words, all the voices he had ever heard over his lifetime mingling together in a chorus for her to listen to. Voices she had yet to hear spoke long and softly to her as she absorbed them, the owners unknown to her, but beautiful in different ways as she heard them now. If she ever met the owners she would know the voice before she knew a face.

The Galadhrim, or Edhelath were the people she was now "guest" of. Woodland Elves. It was unfortunate she could not expect this transfer to be perfect, unable to exhaust all aspects of his complex language, such as things she had never seen, local dialect oddities, and the like would be lost. It was a flawed method to learn a language in its entirety, but it served well enough to bring her to an intelligent level with the race. She would know what they were saying and be able to speak in return, plead her case if needed, which would have been nice in the woods had she been able to use this spell.

A menial grasp of two other less musical languages mingled into the influx, but she was unsure what races they belonged to. She would find out later. She had a feeling the ugliest sounding one belonged to those mutants she met in the field, but she cared not to dwell there long. Her head lolled to the side as the hold began to slip and dwindle from his mind, releasing both. It left her droopy eyed once again but she needed to get up.

The boy would not be awake for at least a day after being hit with her first spell and being subject of another so she would have time to flee. Stopping to listen and hearing nothing, Loki pushed the door open and eased out, shutting it behind her. Anyone looking in would see her asleep on the floor where the little warrior stayed. Since he had been sent to bring her food it was unlikely any others would come too soon.

Since the steps leading deeper into the cavern would be counter productive to escape, she crept up the sloping stairways, taking ones that could hopefully lead her outside. She was careful to be silent, listening for voices to give her indication of where to go or where to avoid. Her tattered skirt licked lazily at her heels as she moved on tiptoes. Lanterns hung high overhead to light the way through the winding corridors of gleaming stone. The sound of rushing water caught her attention and she followed the trails through several winding hallways until she found the source.

Water gushed wild and free from high above, glittering like falling diamonds, to drop into a churning aqua pool. The waves bubbled and gushed out to travel their way through various cracks in stone it could find. Whether it formed this way on its own or was crafted deliberately, it was a brilliant structure. Building a castle here was quite an advantage over the wild above, protected and cared for by this towering rock and the living water flowing like blood in its veins.

With careful steps, keeping to the balls of her feet, she approached the edge of the vast and deep pool. She gladly dipped her hands and drank greedily of the pure spring. There was a sweet taste to this water, unlike Asgard or Midgard. It would be a shame to taint it with spider blood. She ripped an errant and clinging bit of fabric from her skirt, wet it, and used it to scrub the dried blood from her face and arms.

Her cape was gone, she realized when she arrived at her shoulder, pauldrons missing with the fabric. When had they taken it from her? She had not even noticed it absent. Perhaps they did it when they untied her hands. She had absolutely no idea, though it greatly annoyed her. They did not have to take it from her, she could have used it as a blanket at the least. Another irksome disadvantage she would have to deal with. This escape was becoming tedious and appealed to her less by the moment.

Perhaps she should not escape, the plan looked bleaker by the moment. Hiding within the safety of this place might be to her advantage until she better knew what she would be facing outside. Her first trip had gone quite poorly and she was not of the mind to relive any of it. Remaining hidden in this carved out mountain seemed to be a better option. While she did not plan to stay in that tiny, dank cell, roaming the halls of this palace would be a splendid alternative. It could not be that hard to evade their notice in a dwelling as large as this, surely! It was a veritable city underground from what she had seen.

If she slept a bit more, recovered further, her magic would build enough to sustain a concealment spell, enabling her nearly absolute freedom. Finding a place that would be secluded enough to recover would be her only issue.

Loki stared into the pool, fingers tentatively working to repair the damage done to her beautiful hair. She would fix it with magic or cast a glamour over it until she could fix it properly, but she did not have the seidr to waist. It was peaceful here beside the rushing water, a natural rush of calming nature to replenish a soul. It could so easily lull her to sleep even as she carded her fingers through locks of hair glued together with dry blood.

There was a very real ache throbbing in her temples, behind her eyes. The longer her magic was depleted the more she would feel this pain grow. Those with magic in their blood as intricately as hers could not really be without it. It caused side effects similar in part to human anemia, heat to Jotunn, water to Fire Demons, or lack of every living being focusing every drop of attention onto Thor. She loathed the feeling of being so weakened, being unable to use properly the one thing that brought her on even ground with everyone else.

Being of Jotunn blood herself, it was odd that she was cold now that her magic was unable to protect her and hide the defects inherited by those monsters. She should be feeling the heat, should not feel a deep chill in her bones. While she was a shifter, the defects of her blood would not be something she could alter. It made no sense!

"You are far more trouble than you seem to be worth." An all too familiar voice reached over the sound of the water to slap her senses awake.

Her coiled tight shoulders sagged, a groan on her lips, hands fisting into her hair. Edhelath were much too quiet! It had also been foolish to linger so long in an open space. She was far too tired for this! Loki pivoted and eased herself slowly to her feet, turning to find him standing high above on a ledge like a statue. If not for their previous shows of strength and agility she would have questioned his ability to reach her from such a lofty place before she was out of his reach, but these were not humans.

"And you," she shot back, "are proving to be a thorn in my side." Eyes narrowed, she watched the surprise sweep his face when she spoke.

The lights from above reflected off the water and rolled over his body in odd patterns, gleaming in his light hair and catching his blue-gray eyes. "So it _does_ speak intelligently? Your incomprehension was nothing more than a ploy." He hid his shock behind derision.

"_Mockery_, you should know, gains you no favor with me." Loki crossed her arms over her chest in irritation, cocking her hip.

"I am quite certain I was never seeking it. I care not for meaningless partisanship from equivocators or spies." Only one of his twin blades occupied space in his hand, the other remained sheathed at his back.

"I am no spy, I hold no place in your world and thus I have no reason to. I equally have spoken no lie since my arrival. I could not speak your tongue before, I assure you." She ground out defensively, displeased by the rather familiar terms of past confrontations already being thrown at her, "It is a skill I only attained once I was rested enough to focus my mind on learning."

His brow creased, obviously trying to process information spoken as well as deduced, "Then," he proceeded with a threatening tone only those able to back it with true authority could produce without a hint of bluster, almost reminding her of Heimdall, though in a form capable of humor, "you will now be able to answer my questions. I will have your name and your reason for entering our forest!"

Loki's plump lips stretched in a sickly sweet smile, "Is it not considered common courtesy to offer your own name before demanding it of a lady in your realm?" When she caught motion in her peripheral, her focus faltered for a fleeting moment. Her feet shuffled in an involuntary step back when she spotted heavily armored guards take places on either side of the pool, "My name is Loki." She shot the words at him, looking back to his pristine little figure, "My visit to your charming forest was merely a necessity, not calculation as you suppose, as I fled the filthy beasts riding dogs."

His sharp eyes scrutinized her, peeling her apart in strips and layers as he stared, "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil."

"And your escape was well timed," The second voice spoken softly behind her made Loki whirl, heart pounding in shock, to face the red haired elleth, "for we were just on our way to escort you to see Thranduil, the King of our land. He desires to examine you for himself."

Loki's eyes narrowed, shifting her weight to her heels as she eyed the smug, mousy little creature before her, straightening to her full height, "There are not many people who can sneak up on me."

The she elf only smiled, her too long lips stretching farther, "You may find me unlike 'many' people in many things."

Looking down her nose at the slightly shorter woman, she smiled wickedly, taking those words as a form of challenge, "The opposite could prove to be true as well."

Her glance flicked up to Legolas a moment. Prince. That would account for all that pride, confidence, and attitude. Little wonder, though that knowledge might be useful so she tucked it away for a later time.

Without looking, she sensed the added company moving in. Regardless of how well she might unbalance the two head elves, attempts to simply bolt would be thwarted. It was exorbitantly clear that she would not be sneaking away, especially not when the number of guards in the dragon looking armor grew in number as the leaders monopolized her attention. While she was careful to keep her posture relaxed and expression assured, her mind was anything but quieted. She might not fair as well as the first time facing these creatures. The escape from her cell would place her in a different level of suspicion than she had been when they took pity on her obvious helplessness, especially if they went inside.

Even if she could escape, now that they had found her once, it might be harder to hide again. They would place stronger spells on the door next time and Loki could not be totally sure she could free herself quickly if that happened. However, if she could speak to this king and convince him of her plight, her time here could go far more advantageously. Turning and twisting minds was not terribly hard for her, she had always been good at exploiting weaknesses. Her silver tongue had done wonders on other rulers in the past and there was little reason to doubt she could do so again. It surely would be worth the effort.

She had little to lose by allowing herself to be taken to audience. If she bowed and scraped enough she might get farther than she would hiding in the stone halls. Swearing a few loyalties away and begging his protection would leave a sour taste in her mouth but it would be far from the first time. She could play the poor, frightened, weak damsel for him and let him feel a hero in saving her from a horrible fate. Once she had him tightly under her spell, she might just have far more help than anticipated.

Who knew, she might end up sweeping the kingdom from his grasp if she was of the mind. Having an army of her own could not hurt once she was ready to return to Asgard. If she gained this little merry band, she might give Odin a run for the throne yet. But at the least, they might know about a bridge to other worlds if they were indeed the ones ruling the magic of the forest.

"Please, lead the way, I shall not struggle. I am not foolish enough not to see when I have been bested." She tipped her head respectfully in surrender, "I yield, once again."

* * *

><p>After reporting to him, Legolas and Tauriel took stations on either side of steps leading to his prestigious perch. The developments disturbed him mightily; the fact the she escaped was troubling and her sudden absorption of a language she knew nothing of was more so. It could have been a trick, she could have known their tongue since the first, but he had been feeling strange disturbances, twists and kinks in the usual calm. Whenever Gandalf the Grey had visited, he had sensed similar waves and rifts in the magic, but not quite like this. It made him wary all the more of this visitor.<p>

Now, he waited for her to be brought before him, sitting languidly on his seat to belie his discomfort. He watched with keen eyes as his guards lead her from the long passageway to the open high dome of the gathering place. Before she realized where she was, her eyes roamed in analytic and careful exploration, chin slightly lowered. The intricate apiary structure with thick, chiseled pillars and sharp polished spines of stalagmite with winding roots loomed far above them all. She took her surroundings in not with awe, as it was with humans that had never seen the grandeur of a palace, but with careful eyes that searched for weaknesses. Flanked by heavily armored guards, she looked smaller still as they brought her up.

The moment she spotted the throne, however, set her green gem eyes on the one sitting upon it, her chin lifted in confidence earned by many years of facing similar sights. As expected, without being forced, she halted several paces before the carved steps leading to the cathedra, heels clicking together when she stood to attention. The guards, having delivered her, respectfully backed away to give the proper distance.

He could see defiance thick in her eyes. That was not the face of a young woman that had given up, not one that saw the odds of a kingdom against her, but a face of confident expectation. She was calculating and astute, a sly grin lingering just beneath the surface of her pouty lips.

There was inerrant grace, regal poise, and elegance confined within her sylphlike body. The way she moved was like his kin, purposeful and ethereal in a way that no human, even the most royal lines, was capable. Humans could not tell the difference, could not see the minute flaws in motion displayed by any not sharing elvish blood, but an elf could see, could watch others stumbling like infants. Elves walked upon starlight and clouds of spring. They were prized in beauty and respected for a reason. Delicate and exquisite but indomitable by any daring to underestimate their concealed power, his kin.

She was not from Lake-town. This woman in her tattered dress, one that had once been as fine as his own garments, being lead to stand at the edge of the dais, was no human. Not a drop of her blood was human nor Dwarf, she was too well built for that. Neither was she an elleth despite her beauty. Her lush curls of gleaming ink locks were enough to tell him that. While his people frequently had dark hair, he had never seen any quite so dark, and he noticed a subtle difference in texture, a glittering blue tint under the black that was exactly the same as feathers of ravens.

The little creature bowed herself respectfully, back straight and posture without a single flaw, "Your majesty, I pray you accept my gratitude for allowing me shelter and accept my fondest greeting."

As he expected, she spoke with eloquence. Each word was chosen with care and delivered on a clear, perfect tone of practiced ease. Her sweet tone belied a lack of respect hidden under years of training. She had not simply sprouted from a river bank, no, she was refined with a careful and steady hand. There was no question left in his mind that she had been groomed for interactions such as this. After so many years observing people come and go, he was adept at reading details.

"For one unable to speak to my Captain only yesterday," The Elvenking allowed his voice to roll down the steps and assail her adequately before continuing, "you learn remarkably fast."

Her head tipped in a chastened nod, "I was not yet recovered from my arrival here. I required time to acclimate and adjust my mind until I could understand."

Thranduil eased to his feet and descended the steps slowly as he examined her in her examination of him, enunciating every word. "Tell me your name."

Her eyes locked onto his, a dangerous glint of sharp intellect within them, meeting his stare as an equal despite her situation, "Greetings, Sire." She tipped her head to show deference, "I am Loki, Queen of Asgard's Realm."

While he expected some strange declaration, he was not fully prepared to hear it voiced in any but his own thoughts. Looking at her confirmed everything he gleaned from her weapons and the information he had from Legolas and Tauriel. While he did not know the names of every city in the land, he knew most, and knew all the ones capable of sustaining a Queen. Asgard occupied no place upon that list, nor any capable of the craftsmanship in her weapons or armor. Everything lead to the inevitable conclusion; she had either been crafted from recesses of some dark magic, or she was not of Middle Earth.

The sage King did not falter in his resolve, his expression projecting only doubt and challenge, "I know of no such kingdom, nor Queen of such name."

She smiled coyly, lyrical voice deceptively demure, "I should expect so, for I am not of your realm. My feet touched this soil only yesterday," Loki's voice lowered to a near whisper as her eyes dissected him so thoroughly her next words were little surprise, "as I believe you might already have suspected, Sire." This creature was unafraid to speak of this Asgard, proudly announcing it, in fact.

The room was suddenly thick with silent tension, the guards exchanging glances of confused apprehension. He could keenly feel his son tense to a mass of tight coils of nervous energy desperate to be released. His Captain kept her hands folded in front of her, expression carefully unchanged, but he could always see the flexing of her neck muscles whenever she was displeased.

Thranduil allowed silence to descend once more, brow arching in disparagement, "Your realm? This _other world._.." He mused, refusing to relinquish his hold on a victory to her, "If I am to believe these words, where might it be found? Or perhaps, a more apt question would be how did you come to my domain?"

Loki seemed more than prepared for the question, "As Queen, I am responsible for all that happens in my realm as well as things directly near it. My people use a pathway, magical rifts in the dimensions to travel between lands. Magic not so unlike that of this realm. Upon my latest journey, the bridge was somehow damaged and I was displaced, redirected forcefully into this, your world."

He was only two steps higher than she but he used the height difference to force her to look up, "Magical rifts? You truly expect me to believe this?" The crimson silk mantle slipped farther down his shoulders as he waved a hand in a half circle, "Show me this pathway of yours and perhaps I might be more inclined to listen, but given no proof, I can see no reason I should hear you further. While my real is indeed familiar with many forms of magic, as you clearly have sensed, I see no reason to blindly accept your word."

"Oh, there is indeed a rift here or I would not have landed in your world, I merely need to find it again." Her nose crinkled in revulsion, "I would have done so already if I had not been forestalled by a pack of sickly beasts riding wild dogs. There arrival forced me to flee the location before I found my way back to my own world. My retreat brought me here and so I stand before you."

Legolas scoffed, unable to keep silent, "This tale is far from provable."

She only smiled, "I expect there might still be remains of those beasts I killed beyond the trees. I was dropped not far from there." Her slender arms crossed, hip cocking to one side, "You also have my weapons and my helm. You need only examine them and the runes etched upon the surface. I am quite sure you will find them unreadable to you or your people."

The way Legolas lifted his chin said everything, he had listened and judged it all impossible. What he really wanted was to drag truth from her lips, force her to give up her true birthplace so that he could pronounce her a spy. "If we were to even begin to believe your words, exactly what do you seek from us? You clearly desire something or you would not be telling us this."

"Yes," Thranduil chose to forestall further interruption from his overly eager heir, "it is clear enough to us that you, a lady that does not often share more than is strictly necessary, would reveal none of this without good reason. Therefore, I believe it is time you made your intended request."

The narrowing of her eyes was clue enough that she abhorred being called out, being deduced, but she nodded anyway, "My strength was greatly taxed by my fall and the subsequent attacks that followed. The only thing I request is for your extension of hospitality." Her eyes lowered to the ground submissively, "I am unprepared for this word for I do not understand it. My plea is only that you offer me shelter, offer me temporary aid until I am able to find my way back to my world. In return for asylum, I would offer you my skills and offer my services to you."

Thranduil watched her carefully, eyes drawn to her hands as she drew nervous circles into her palm, "Were I to offer you this, what exactly are these skills you would lend to my service?"

Her voice was quieter than it had been, "Any you require. I have been to many lands and learned a great many secrets in my travels. I am a skilled sorceress versed in all forms of seidr, as I have seen you obvious reliance on magic. I am skilled in battle as well as palace matters. I believe you would find me invaluable, my King."

"And you are willing to pledge these skills to me?" He would admit that she was slightly tempting him, stirring his curiosity.

Fast shuffling feet drew all eyes to the main hallway as a guard rushed in, "We have found Lendion! He was concealed within her cell, cloaked in dark magic. We are unable to wake him! She has begun an attack, your majesty!"

The tension that had slowly been eased shot high once again. His people were ridged with brimming anger and intent. Attacking one of their kin had never been the wisest of moves for any visitor, but the mistrust they all felt around her amplified any normal response ten fold. This creature, whatever she was, was far too dangerous. Killing her outright might be prudent, but if he did believe her to be a queen, ending the life of some distant realm's monarch could be hazardous. However, if she was as weakened as she claimed, he would not have to kill her himself.

Loki tensed instantly, holding up her hands in a placating gesture, "This is a misunderstanding! I assure you, he is unharmed! He is simply asleep and will awaken in a few hours."

Shoulders squared, chest expanding, Thranduil shook his head, "I do not believe this is a misunderstanding. In fact, I understand the declaration perfectly. It is treachery you bring with you and no good can come from listening to your lies. You might have any number of dark traps awaiting us."

Loki stepped closer, eyes suddenly pleading, "I concede that my attempt to escape was a mistake, but I was in no way attempting to cause any damage! I implore you to listen to me!"

Thranduil continued, ignoring her pleading, "Her prolonged presence here is nothing but a threat." He flicked his wrist her direction, "Remove her at once. Take her to our borders and send her off. If she tries to return in secret, she is to be executed."

He knew she was nothing but a danger. It would have been best to throw her out when the light first peeked from behind the hills. Dark magic was too dangerous to trifle with. For all he knew, she was one of the dark forces moving over the land, a servant of evil. Be there truth to her story or not, she could clearly not be contained easily within a cell. He could not afford to risk her escape a second time to let her spread her ill magic.

Legolas had already drawn his blades, the hardness of his body indicating he too was finished with these games. The magic she exuded made father and son alike feel disquieted. As such, there was no reason he should reconsider. Dangers within his borders were to be removed without question, be those spiders or spies.

* * *

><p>The sound of metal scraping metal sounded around her as the elves drew weapons. Loki's heart beat faster in her chest as she glanced around the room. These creatures were going to remove her from the nearest thing to safety she had found in this world. There were no guarantees she would find another before those monsters descended once more. No help would come from Asgard, no ears would heed her desperate calls. The bridge from this realm to another could be in any location. If she was expelled now when her magic store was so low there would be no chance of survival. She simply had to convince him!<p>

There was an art to surrender. Appealing to the audience was the key, finding what they would listen to the most.

Loki gaped at him as he ascended the steps of his thorn, "Wait, you cannot do this! I have no recourse in your realm, no defense against your beasts! You confiscated my weapons and I cannot navigate your world! You must listen to my request! Hear reason!"

"I am required to do nothing." Thranduil canted his head slowly to give her his profile, staring down with chilled eyes, "I can, and I shall. I do whatever is best for my realm, and your swift removal is just that. See if you can find your rift."

"I swear to you that I have caused no damage here! You cannot simply refuse to hear me! At least allow me a few moment to speak!" Loki struggled to keep the full weight of her panic from her voice as her mind raced.

"I already have. My word is final."

Desperation was swiftly driving Loki farther than she ever cared to go, but as the young elfling, the heir moved on her, blades drawn, she dropped to her knees, "I implore you to give me but one chance! I swear to you, I will cause you and your people no harm!" Her pleading was directed three ways, at the only three in the room that seemed to have the power to save her. "I will swear fealty to you and your kin while I am here. After I return to my world I will align Asgard to your side in treaty!"

The Elven king's steps hitched only a moment, "If you are indeed a queen, then you will be able to last here a few days before finding your way back."

Real and honest fear trickled up her spine along with flashes of manic rage. He was dismissing her, tossing her out like trash into a world she could not fight alone. So soon after a far more personal rejection, it stung her pride. The voice echoing words in her head was not this king's but Odin's instead. No one had the right to merely dismiss her! By right, she was born as queen to Jotunhiem regardless of her love of it, and she was rightful queen of Asgard as well. Nothing had been transferred officially back to Odin, as was law, so by that same law, she had not relinquished the title.

She was queen, she defeated Laufey the way Odin had been unable to, outwitted Thor and his whoring lapdogs with no more than a slight of hand. She would not be dispelled so easily a second time in a matter of days and would not be left to die in a harsh world ...again! She was no babe now, she could not be pushed aside and she would not fall willingly away ever again. This king was no different from Odin, looking down his nose as if he were so far removed he need not touch ground! He was narrow minded, pompous and stupid!

Loki moved to her feet, swiftly stepping away from Legolas. Red began to cloud her vision as her anger grew.

The mirth and pleasantry was gone from her voice as she glared furiously at the king before her, hardly aware of the guards nearing, "You have no true authority over me! Be this your kingdom or not, I too am of royal blood. I was born to rule and I will not be cast out like a criminal by _anyone_!" Her sword appeared in her outstretched hand, summoned from its close proximity to her and she pointed it at the king's retreating figure, "I demand to be heard, as is my right as your equal."

A flash of shock flickered in his eyes, widening them just a fraction before he was descending the steps again, drawing the sword from his belt in a swift slice.

"All you shall hear is the sound of our blades splitting your skull for daring to threaten our king!" One guard snarled dramatically as they rushed instantly to subdue her

They reminded her of Asgard's soldiers, brainless and stupidly loyal to the point of blindness. Snarling in fury, rage bubbling beneath the surface of her being, she threw them all back with a burst of green light at the flick of her wrist. She would not be touched by filth! They were nothing but filth!

Rationality was fading swiftly, replaced only with feelings so similar to the splitting fury she felt while battling Thor on the bridge that it terrified her. The rage pulsing inside her threw careful monitoring of her seidr to the wind, only concerned with the battle at hand. She had been close to convincing this king if she had been given more time. She should have known a small act would come back to bite her. Something always ruined it!

Legolas' blades clashed against her sword only seconds after the guards fell and his power surprised her. He was strong, strong enough to force her to break away, rolling to the floor in order to have his back. The red hair was a flash beside her, giving the warning she needed to swipe the thrown dagger from the air in its travel for her neck. Rolling to her feet once again, she pivoted to face the three encroaching enemies, feeling the stir of others soon to arrive from the hallways.

She could still escape, could still conceal herself in the safety of this castle, subsiding off anything she could glean from it. All she needed was a hostage to stall them. The Prince would be her best choice, the one they would be desperate to keep alive. A spell to keep him controlled would be enough to get here away. She need only touch him to cast it.

Loki dove into their midst, back folding her nearly in half to ducking under a swipe of the king's blade as she sliced a gash into the Tauriel's thigh on her way. Twin blades locked to block her pivotal following swing on the king, as she supposed they might. He was in perfect range now, all she needed to do was get under those blades.

A strong kick to her midsection from the elleth on the ground sent Loki crashing against a pillar, her shoulder blades nearly cracking in protest. There was no time to catch her breath as Thranduil swung on her. Their blades locked at the hilt, his body pressing her hard against the beam as he reached for a second blade at his belt. The calm in his eyes surprised her but she had no time to dwell, pushing off of the pillar with all her strength, only just shoving him back far enough to throw her body to the side, turning him with her as their blades refused to release.

They twisted the blades in tandem, moving opposite directions, blades zinging as they slid apart. Not waiting, he lunged at her again, and again, driving her back with the sharp force of each blow. Elven king and Aesir queen were all flashes of silver, and fluid motion as they danced to the sound of clashing blades. Legolas was out of reach, blocked by the shifting essence of his father, a far better warrior than she originally took him for. The focused fire in his eyes was unmistakable. He was blocking her retreat with his own motion the way water might force a rock to move. She had to wonder if he somehow predicted she would target his son.

Very well, she did not need a hostage anyway, they would only get in the way. Running and ducking into little cracks was easier if she was alone. Sword in hand, decision made, she vaulted onto the dais of the throne and out of his reach, racing for the edge to clear a jump. There was an exit near her several meters down, a leap she could easily clear. No telling where it would lead, but she would take it.

Loki's legs faltered, stopping her cold in confusion. She stumbled and crashed gracelessly the the second level, barely staggering to her feet before the white hot fire made itself known in her side. The long dagger sticking from between her ribs finally registered in her mind as she glanced down. The red haired one was on her feet, staring passively as guards finally swarmed from the doorway.

The blazing pain had her on her knees, the sword clattering from her hand. Her fingers pulled the blade from her flesh on ill instinct and tossed it down the steps. The sheer need to escape overrode her need to preserve magic, the desperation to run screaming more loudly than logic. She curled in on herself and let instinct take over as her seidr dissolved her presence, sifting her to an intangible nothingness as it carried her on the air, returning her back to to the farthest place she had been from this room. This spell could take her only short distances, and only to places she had been, but it transported her all the same.

Her body came back together in a flash of green, her crumpled figure materializing on the floor of her previous cell. The door still yawned open as she looked around to find herself thankfully alone.

There was an art to surrender, there always was. That had not been it!

* * *

><p>AN: I'm sorry, I just had to keep up a little thing in my head about Loki. I had to make the red head of this world be another irritant to Loki, had to use the line from Avengers because I could just see this happening. Loki ha issues with red haired women with powerful skill and personalities. Tauriel is no Natasha, but they have some similarities if you think on it! I view her as a less dark BW, maybe?<p>

I hope no one expected that to go perfectly, Loki's prone to trouble. My reasoning in the magical issues for Loki is that Mirkwood and Middle Earth is positively steeped in dark magic from the corruption and Sauron's approaching return. That is a lot of magic to counter for a very weakened Loki. I think she would be bound to have issues with it. And with her magic so low, as it is now, she's in no shape to just flick it off. And she's still emotional and smarting from being rejected by Odin. AND she killed her real father too, and I don't care how much she hated him, that would mess with her head. Sooo, my theory is that she would be a ticking time bomb of emotions. She already had a total spin out from too much information too fast, too many shocks, and she's still going to be unstable, thus the ending to this chapter.


	4. Fragility

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_Fragility_

*Tolkien

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

_AN: I explored the feelings connected to all of them in this, the fears and needs driving them. There will be more of that later but this was the start of my own character exploration. The hard edges and softer sides of Thranduil and his elves as well as Loki. They all have a great deal of depth so in need of exploration, which is wish to do._

* * *

><p>Loki clutched her head in both hands, staggering forward on unsteady legs. Her head was positively pounding and throbbing so hard her vision was tunneled. Pulsing pain could have told her everything she needed to know about her mistakes but struggling just to move confirmed it all. Her magic was dangerously low, and what was left was desperately working to knit the wound, a reflexive working she need not even tell it to do. Using the last of her magic to flee might have been her only choice but it cost her quite heavily. The tiny few drops of seidr she had left dedicated themselves to healing the gaping hole in her side.<p>

No, not the best surrender she had ever pulled off in her life. Not the best negotiation either.

She recalled the chill in her bones previously but she could have sworn her marrow had turned to ice, slowly freezing her blood. The slight and painful shivering refused to stop, making her teeth chatter. Shock was most likely the cause of it. Those filthy monsters could not be frozen to death, they lived in ice and snow, and she was one of them. This reaction was nothing but the shock her body was going through but it did not stop the trembling.

Yesterdays black around her vision had returned so strongly she could hardly make out the path a she toddled down the steps - potentially deadly considering the substantial drop. Her feet kept moving, plunging her on, her upper body barely remaining upright. Loki was panting, one arm cradling her ribs while the other supported her along the wall to her left. Her feet scuffed the stone with every step, trembling legs not strong enough to pick them up to more than fast shuffling.

If not for the fact that the bread had already been used by her magic, she might have lost it. She was so light headed there might have been helium filling her skull and she never would have noticed. Misery would have been too light a word for her plight. Her typical stubbornness was really the only thing keeping her on the move at the present because death would have been a welcome blessing in her current state.

Elves! Elves and their arrows! She found herself hating elves, not as much as the spiders or gray beasts, but she hated them. Casting her out of the kingdom! Who did that weak imitation for a king think he was to order the queen of Asgard out? Granted, she had been deposed in the technical sense, betrayed by her adopted family, cast out like so many stolen treasures left to rot in the vault, but these prideful little mice did not need to know that. They would not be getting help from Asgard once she took back her rightful place.

A long moan rolled free when the toe of her boot caught on a step, forcing her to fall into the wall to avoid falling into the void below. She gagged on a few cries and curses, wishing for a split second that Frigga could be there to make her feel better as she always would. Any time she returned bartered by an outing with Thor, Frigga gathered her into those comforting arms and whispered little spells into her ear until she was better than before.

Of course, she would never reach such a place again, would never return to that home. She was lost in a veritable death trap soon to face horrible ends regardless of what she did next. She could never go home, and even if she did, it could never be as it once had been, would never feel as safe now that she knew the lies. There would be no more comfort in such things.

The fear of it all swelled within her and threatened to steal her drive to move on. Despair clawed up in her chest along with the longing to simply go back to a time when none of this had ever come to pass. She would give so much to go back, to trade all her current knowledge for the less painful lies she once knew. It had all been safer and less painful than what she was left to now.

A new sob from the ache in her heart tried to crowd out her mouth but she pushed it away, repressed foolish memories she had no use for. She was fighting for her life in a cruel world. Her family played no part in that besides being the reason for it. Mourning lost things had never been her way, revenge was! To hate was much easier and the hate, when allowed the fester, provided her with just enough drive to keep walking. One way or another, she would rain fire upon their heads for throwing her away and she would repay these elves in kind a well.

Loki' muscles spasmed in her chest, the reforming tissue trying to navigate to damage and knit it together, and her steps faltered. Stumbling blindly, she stumbled into a large room branching from the steps. Her body gave way and she crashed into a moderately soft, though noisy landing. It took he a moment or two to lift her head in order to gauge her surroundings, but once she did, she scrambled off the bag of what must have been grain. A storage room. Those were well used but the could also be excellent hiding places if one burrowed deeply enough.

On hands and knees, she crawled her way to the very back of the room, loathed to sink low enough to hide herself behind wheat sacks, but knew better than to refuse a gift when it was presented. While she wanted desperately to search for something to replenish her strength, she had nothing left to give. Her body had struggled as far a it would and more. Searching would be saved for the moment she could move. For now, she allowed her mind to switch into it's only defense, let herself hibernate.

* * *

><p>The heavy sound of multiple falling boots echoed off the carved stone walls as parties searched in a vastly hurried, though thorough pursuit of the missing prisoner. Though she was presumed injured, having clearly bee caught by Tauriel's blade, she was considered no less of a threat. Without a proper understanding of those obvious hidden skills there was no way to quantify the perspective risk she posed.<p>

Thranduil's glacial, calculating eyes swept over every shadow, every potential cover with an intensity capable of melting stone. His robes billowed around him in a mirror of the way the water crashed through the halls at the end of one corridor, his focus no less dangerous than the force of those same waves. It was exactly as he believed, she was a rare creature, nothing he had seen before. This Queen of Asgard was more than she appeared, more than even he might have expected. The wizards of his world could do many things, always with tricks hiding somewhere within their reach, she clearly was no different. Perhaps she was more kin to Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien.

He prowled like a caged cougar, though every ounce a king with his spine straight, arms folded properly behind his back, shoulders square, chin level, eyes sharp and alert as he stalked from the room at a brisk pace. He barked orders to guards searching farther down another hallways, his voice a sharpened blade, demanding the respect he deserved with its preeminence; the darkened tone leaving no question to his foul, tense mood.

Loki absolutely had to be found, wherever she was! She was dangerous and every second she was free was nothing but opportunity for her to harm any she found. None could say how far she might have gotten without first knowing how such a spell worked, but he knew she was yet within the great walls, he could still feel the magic rippling against her presence. The anomaly to his world, the lithe raven haired creature with sharp, doleful eyes was yet within his reach.

She would be found before she risked more lives. The Elven king would not feel a drop of ease until she was again within his sight. His guards had been unharmed by her show of strength, stiff and yet with pounding heads or ringing ears, but well enough. If she intended them harm, underestimating their bodies, or held back was unclear as of yet. She was calculating and he knew she must have reason for anything she did.

Two guards flanked him as they glided swiftly down another stairway, eyes shifting in every direction, searching for the illusive queen. With so much armor adorning them, they were far from silent in their advance, unlike the feather brush of sound Mirkwood's king would be giving away if alone. He could have disbursed them to search alone but saw no point when she would know they were searching.

Tauriel and Legolas would find her in silence if he could not. Though the thought of Legolas nearing her gave him no more ease than anything else. There had been no mistaking her intent, the burning focus in her eyes when she looked to his son. The little creature saw a target, a way to bring a king to heel. She could not hope to use the king himself or risk bringing down an entire army upon her head is a single way of desperation, but take the son of the king, and time would stop.

If she could manage to catch hold of him with that magic of hers he had no doubt she would use him as a shield. He had seen the glow at her fingers when she neared him, knew she was ready to spring on him when she dared not touch the ruler. Always strike the king's child, any with even a remote leaning toward the cruel dealings of a palace knew it for the weakness it was. That weakness ... he would not allow he to touch his son, not if he had a drop of power within him, that he privately vowed.

Such a being though, such a creature could be of some use. If he could indeed control her, there were immense possibilities. Such power exhibited, if she could be brought under his charge, he might indeed have a weapon worth its weight. Now that he had heard whispers of Thrain sightings and stirs that Thorin was moving it could be only a matter of time before things grew darker.

There were also birds venturing nearer to the Lonely Mountain. These were darkening days in Middle-Earth and he could not deny that it weighed heavily upon him. Try as he might to protect his people, there was only so much he could do to shut out the ever growing darkness.

Having powerful allies could yet be of some value. Her words had indeed swayed him even past his anger, discomfort at her presence, and pride. An offer of alliance to a people potentially as powerful as the queen herself was an offer he could not be deaf to. He sensed her need, even as he moved up the steps, and it did give him pause. If given a moment or two more, he would have considered her words again after he had allowed her to brew in her desperation, wringing more promises from her. She had surprised him, however. Once it fell from his hands there had been no calling it back.

As it stood now, she would not willingly come to his side. However, she might not be so immune to coercion. She had been desperate enough to kneel, desperate to remain within his walls, under his protection. There was something she desperately needed from him, be that protection from Orcs or something else, he did not yet know, but she needed him. That was something he could use to his own advantage.

"We have located her!" Called a guard from far below, drawing his eyes down the tears of stone to the figure.

Thranduil lost not time in getting to the little band, their weapons all drawn and ready as they awaited him. As he slipped into one of the many storage spaces he found Tauriel and Legolas stood in the back, eyes darting up only feelingly to greet him before they again focused on the target. Each had weapons draws and ready. His steps were silent as he approached, eyes cast down with the focus of the others until he saw her.

There, amid sacks of grain, waves of raven hair splayed all around her, was Loki - she looked every bit a fallen queen now. Eyelids closed, dark circles under them almost black, she looked in poor health. Her skin held no color at all, deathly white, even more so with her hair so dark against her. Those chiseled cheekbone and sharp features seemed all the more dramatic and prominent in the low light of the torches at the door. She looked boneless the way she lay, vulnerable and prone. Her chest rose and fell in slow motion, shallow.

They let him scrutinize her before Tauriel, bow at the ready, asked quietly, "Do you wish me to finish her, your majesty?"

They of course, waited for the final word from him before daring to act. By the stance of each one, so coiled with tension, they wanted to finish her instantly. Tauriel, he could read by the tension in her voice and the vibrating rage just barely hiding under the surface that she desperately wanted vindication for the earlier slight, her allowance of this dark haired creature to catch her. The wound on her leg was bound and well forgotten but not so the damage to the captain's spirit of a lioness. The icy tightness in her forest eyes screamed her desire to blot out the black mark to her usual perfection. Tauriel had let this one under her skin and she wanted nothing more than to finish it here and now.

Legolas was the same, though he was deferring to her obviously stronger need to clear her record. He needed only to look around him to find all his people in a similar state. Pride had been wounded among them since the very first moment they met this fallen queen. Some part of him said that was reason enough to keep her near, to have a visceral reminder to them that they had become complacent.

Silence fell, his eyes still assessing every detail, coolly calculating his options in his mind, letting them spin around at his whim, "Not quite yet." The warm, melting baritone of his voice quietly defied any to argue once he passed judgement, "Perhaps, she may yet be of use to us. If nothing more," his eyes narrowed in a familiar haughty sneer directed down his nose at Loki, chin lifting, "we would do well to wring answers from her before she dies."

The declaration might not have pleased any of them but they refused to show it, only nodding. The promise of potentially being allowed to question her or the fact that she might be executed later might have softened that blow. It mattered little whether they liked it or not, his attention was far more focused on the way Legolas was shifting closer to her, ready to scoop her up.

"Legolas, do not touch her." His voice was stern but veiled the sudden panic he felt rising so inexplicably at the thought that she might be feigning her condition, so he surged forward, eyes sharp as he glared at his heir, "You may go, return to your usual duties." He did not miss the flash of indignation passing behind those blue-gray eyes, the defiance aching to bubble up.

The elfling swallowed it down and nodded, stiffly gliding from the room as if he had been slapped across the face. Thranduil's jaw tightened, not watching his son leave, pretending to notice nothing of the chill from the retreating figure. Legolas was too young to understand the fragility of his own life, assured of his own invincibility. In the face of such a powerful and obviously sly creature, there was no potential of his allowance that child to risk it unknowingly. Not that the Elvenking would ever allow him to deduce the reason for any dismissal, it would only cause him to hate those decisions all the more if he knew they were driven by fear. That free spirit would never like to have his wings clipped, would resent being protected in any way.

No, he would not give credence to the idea by gazing after an angry son, instead, he carefully lowered himself down, extending a hand to touch her forehead with the backs of his fingers. She was cold to the touch and she shivered when he withdrew his hand but she stirred no further in response than that. Clearly her condition was quite poor, maybe growing worse in the cool of the earth. He did not have knowledge of her kind but he could clearly see that she was far less the woman he had seen in the throne room. His proximity to her had the guards shifting carefully forward, everyone had such a weakness of worry within their souls.

Reaching for her again, taking her by the shoulders to lift her up slightly, he sought the wound in her side. It surprised him just how delicate she felt in his hands, so small and breakable now where she seemed anything but not so long before. Cradling the back of her neck and shoulders in one arm, he made to examine the injury, but nearly choked on what he found - rather the lack of it. There a rip in the dress and ample dried blood to evince the injury, but try as he might, he found no gaping wound. All that remained was angry and puckered skin. In such a minuscule amount of time, without trace of herbs that he could find, she had healed her own wound.

That on its own was reason enough to examine her further. Such a skill would serve them more than well to possess in any time, but more of all in times of coming unrest. Yes, she could be useful indeed! Thranduil eased her out of his arms, still careful of her, unsure what to make of her. He would speak with her the very moment she was again walking in the waking world.

"Bring her to the healing room. She will need attention if we are to gain anything further from her." His spine stiffened even further as he stood, chin lifting and shoulders squaring more sharply as he turned and exited the small room.

* * *

><p>Loki jolted awake, arms and legs twitching and grabbing at the air. A gasp was on her lips, eyes widening as her violent motion rewarded her with fire running through her tenderized body. The last she remembered, she had been stumbling through hallways to escape and could not remember falling into sleep. The softness beneath her and the warm blanket draped over her now did not exactly coincide with that memory but it was a welcome sort of change indeed.<p>

Her tongue licked at her dry lips, feeling how parched her throat was. It would have been quite nice to have some water brought to her about this time. The olden days in a not so distant past when people brought her things in the morning, she had not appreciated those moments nearly enough.

The room was all carved and spiraling stone, much like everything else in this underground kingdom. White cloth hung delicately from places above as well as twists of flowers and herbs in some sort of curtain work. The look of the room was much brighter than her cell had been, far less dismal, even a little cheerful. There was a fire dancing in a hearth just beside her and she gratefully reveled in the warmth. That blanket and the fire helped to quell the horrible chill even though she could still feel it.

She almost felt her brain itself ripple, like it was turning onto its side and down another way with the most intense vertigo sensation she could ever recall feeling. To say it was unpleasant would have been levity itself. Her hands moved to cradle her head, eyes screwed shut until the feeling passed. After a moment her eyes drifted open once more. While she did not relish the idea of moving in any sense she was also sure she had little choice. If she was going to escape she would have to do it while no one was watching her. She might make it away if they thought her still asleep.

Gingerly, she eased herself into a sitting position, sliding her legs to dangle from the side of the bed. A deep breath was all she allowed herself before she made for the door to the right of that fire. The moment she tried to take a step, her left leg buckled, bringing the other to follow and she crumpled gracelessly to the stone floor. Her eyes focused on the stone as she stared at her fists. The fall had not hurt her but it was less than pleasing. Even so, she could not bring herself to really care, numb to most things including anger.

There was a distant sound of music coming from somewhere above, a soothing sound that nearly lulled her to sleep where she was. She could not sleep here though or they might return. Unconscious, they had clearly taken pity on her, honor preventing them from finishing her. That same reasoning would no longer apply and she would face the self same fate as before, tossed to the horrors of this world.

"If you are watching or listening, you despicable gatekeeper, be sure that I will repay this grand favor." She muttered, eyes still cast to the ground, "Because I am only too aware that it is entirely your fault, Heimdall. I all began with you and your wounded pride, letting Thor rush off to Jotunhiem! None of this would have happened if not for your treachery!"

That hate was all she really had left to tap into and she would use it, struggle with into until she could force herself onward by will alone. Blinking rapidly to clear the haze, she tried weakly and struggled to her unsteady feet. It took her a humiliating amount of time to get to that door and she nearly fell against it, clinging to the handle for support. Her chest was heaving as she struggled with the door, desperately trying to pull it open.

The opposing magic tingled at the tips of her fingers and into her palms as she pulled. To her utter dismay and ultimate frustration, she found she did not have enough seidr within her to even risk the low level spell she used before, and surely not the one above it she had fallen back on to open the door. Once the knowledge collided into her skull she allowed herself to slide down the door to her knees, forehead resting against the metal in defeat.

"You truly must be weak, or perhaps I am simply learning how best to cage you." The words were low and sharp, fraught with self congratulatory undertones of smirking lips. "Might I take this as an indication that no longer need concern myself with your escape attempts?"

Loki was scrambling frantically to get to her uncooperative feet while still clinging desperately to what precious little grace she still held in her body - she only just managed to stand with the door holding her up at her back, "I cannot yet give answer to that, if you indeed wish my honesty." Her chin lifted defiantly as she stared down Mirkwood's king in his only slightly simplified robes, "If my memory is still quite what I believe it is, I already told you I was weakened by my fall from the Bifrost into your charming domain."

The crown of twisted nature no longer sat upon his head but she was surprised to find that he looked no less intimidating without the sign of power. His stance was strong, arms linked behind his back, feet planted firmly at shoulder width as he studied her with that same penetrating intensity that felt like he could suffocate her under its force alone - it made her want to beg him to look anywhere but at her lest he find all her secrets. In the perfectly crafted, unusually textured, sliver and bronze sheen of a garment, long and flowing to the floor, sword removed from his waist, he looked no less able to demolish her somehow.

Though he was smiling - no, he was clearly smirking like a wolf - he looked more sinister than when he did not bother to curve those sensuous lips. Having the full and very heavy force of his undivided attention directed onto her was more terrifying than it had any right to be. Perhaps she only felt it so keenly because she was barely able to remain on her feet but she felt it regardless. Had she been standing without use of a prop it would have taken all her courage not to back away or seek out something substantial to maintain her distance from him.

His head tilted lazily though still uncannily eloquent as he rounded the bed to draw nearer to her, though where he emerged from was a mystery, "You did. It seems, in this, you were veridical."

The implications hidden beneath his saccharine tone were enough to stir her belligerent nature, "Quite so, as clearly I have only the deepest respect for you and your abundant authority. I would never dream of speaking anything but open words to you, my liege." Loki was pouring it on thick, complete with a languid smile.

The razor edge in his smile softened in what she thought could have been honest amusement, the slightest upward twitch to one brow, then it was gone, "This Gatekeeper... is he the true reason for you being here?" His feet crossed one over the other as he approached, "Or did I gather something incorrectly for your words?"

Loki could not conceal the widening of her eyes as she swallowed a gasp, the understanding that he had seen far too much, watched her total vulnerability when she believed herself alone was a blow too many to her already bruised composure, "How long were you hiding in the shadows?" The usual underlying fury, pride, and insolence that she held tightly up as a shroud dissipated into ruins, "Do you typically make watching your prisoners flounder like newborns you entertainment?" Her shoulders dropped with close to an audible thud as her eyes fell to his feet.

"Not always, only in cases of the clever ones full of subterfuge." His own hubris diminished considerably, his own tension fading somewhat, "But you have yet to answer my question. This Gatekeeper, what occurred with him?"

Loki pushed off of the door and walked with as much dignity as she could scrape together to a chair that looked comfortable enough, "Yes, he and four others betrayed me." She sank into it, more grateful for the support than she ever should have been. "That was the reason for my fall. It was no accident, simply a trap I saw much too late."

"What occurred?" It was not a demand but a real question.

Her smile was soft as she looked at a more relaxed king before her, though she had no idea what caused the change, "If I vow to tell you tomorrow, will you permit me a bit more sleep?"

The hardness did not return at quite its previous ferocity but it returned none the less to those eyes, "In light of your condition, I shall offer you that concession." The familiar arrogance returned as if it had never left, "However, I must suggest you consider bathing in that time to rid yourself of the Orc stench, It is most unpleasant."

Had she been less confused, less drained for her desire to fight, or less sure he might be making a valid point, she would have been insulted, "Orcs?"

"The beasts you spoke of are called thus, and you have yet to be rid of the filth of them. Riding yourself of the smell could do your recovery no ill, I will add."

Her humor returned to her slowly, peeking out at him through the mild spark in her eyes, "How am I to be sure you will not lurk about while I bathe as you did before? Have I a promise that my virtue shall remain quite whole?"

Both dark brows arched with incredulous surprise, "You suggest that I or one of my people would do such a thing?" Indignation crept into his tone as he continued, "I assure you that I am in no such habit. Do not mistake us for Dwarfs!" Moving with dignified composure, he strolled toward the door, "Clothing shall be sent up for you shortly. Please replace your current rags with them. Do not attempt to escape, however, I advise you now that you have so completely ensured my guards distaste for you."

Whatever he meant by it all, she was fairly sure he was quite serious. For the present time she had every intention to obey and trust him with whatever tiny piece of herself she dared. She was secure in his word on this if nothing else. Though she had known him only shortly, she could see much of the same qualities in his speeches as she herself employed when intent against honesty. A liar could typically sense another liar's nature, a bird of a feather. Even so, she was well beyond caring or even attempting to determine if she was to be proven correct.

His point about the bath was more than valid and she was only too inclined to accept once she had slept just a bit more. The potential of escape dashed she had no further reason to struggle. Her eyes were closed before he had closed the door behind him but she felt safe enough not to watch him go. He was showing her more than enough kindness to put her worry temporarily to rest regardless of to wisdom in it. For now she would rest and attempt to salvage her strength.

* * *

><p>AN: This chapter was such a pain to write! Thranduil just would not work with me! I had to get out all my Thranduil music and listen that just to appease him.<p> 


	5. Shadow of Kings

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_Shadow of Kings_

*Tolkien

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

_AN: Thank you for all the reviews! They encouraged me and are really the only reason you have this! (I was guilted lol) Love you all!_

_To the chapter name...Basically, the shadows they all walk in, because each of them, if you think on it, walks in a shadow of someone. Also how reputations and fears follow people. Or maybe more how their view of themselves is tinted by what they grew up hearing or understanding, the opinions of others that shaped their ideas._

_In addition, I see Odin and Thranduil as being somewhat cold fathers, but I seem them as being very vastly different inwardly with their children. Legolas and Thor are slightly (and I mean slightly, relax everyone) similar in some ways, especially in the very beginning. Lots of arrogance and over confidence. The fathers though, they are harsh but their reasons are different and their approach is also very different. Though cold, Thranduil is fiercely protective and careful, but Odin sort of just tosses his children like the birds shove the chicks from the nest to see if they can fly._

* * *

><p>The haze of sleep lifted suddenly when the small clinking of glass reached Loki's ears and panic stirred fresh in her beating heart. She stayed still in the chair, never having gotten the energy to get back to the bed and obviously not enough to bathe. Someone was very, uncomfortably close to her now though, one she had not heard enter. The king warned her that his people were less than thrilled with her and she instantly replayed that warning mentally when she felt the heat of the second figure.<p>

It worsened exponentially when she cracked an emerald eye open to see to her dismay, the fire haired female perched beside her in a chair that had not been there last she had seen the room. The she-elf had a dainty cup cradled in her fingers, eyes fixed firmly on the deposed queen. There was a calm assurance to her posture but also coiled tension not unlike a snake in wait for a victim to stray nearer. The Aesir could quite physically feel the tension in the elven woman and it did not bode well for her in the least.

It did her heart no service to be taken so by surprise nor to be so near an enemy when she was all too aware that she stood little chance against he now. There would be no grand escape from her thrown blades this time.

"Well," Tauriel set the cup on the table carefully, "you awaken at last?" Her voice was demure but her eyes were burning fires of simmering anger.

"You are far too silent..." Loki muttered irritably, "This is the second time you have sneaked up on me." Fear was prickling her skin but she refused to show it, not betray her concern, internally checking her reserve of seidr and still finding it lacking. There were a few tricks she could use if it came to that but she did not want to risk missing her mark. "Come to gloat, Captain?" She nearly snarled.

"I came to see your condition for myself." Tauriel's tone was stiff and edged, hinting to her obvious desire - she wanted an excuse to fight.

She would not get it. "Is that so?" Loki simpered, unable to resist her inevitable instinct to cover her weakness with snide remarks or attitude. "What have you decided? Was my sleeping pattern somehow entertaining to observe?"

"Who is Thor?" The elf had not missed a beat, calmly lowering a strike, satisfaction clear in her face as she watched the color-what little there was-drain from the other woman's face.

That had not been expected, and Loki could not manage to hide the shock quite fast enough, cursing how she was slow to snatch her composure back from the brink. "Pardon?"

"You spoke the name several times. Is he a dwarf? Descendant of Durin?" Those sharp eyes were so fixed on the Aesir that nothing would be missed in reactions.

Loki frowned, confusion written plainly on her face now, "Why would I associate with a dwarf? What in the nine realms is a **Durin** and why would you assume I know your foolish little clans? I believe I established that I have no familiarity with your little world!" Her dark brows dipped even lower, "Moreover, why should I care? I am not bound by any oath nor reason to tell you anything, little mouse!"

Tauriel leaned back in her chair, prefect posture never slipping, and she actually laughed, a darkened lilt to it, "The way you speak...I begin to believe you are a queen. You remind me of our king in some moments." The mirth was gone as quickly as it came,"But you are wrong, you do have obligation to tell me. I am the captain of the Guard and it is my prerogative to question prisoners, therefore, you shall answer my inquiry."

Loki's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Do I detect a threat in your words, Captain? Take care when dealing out threats for one never knows what could come of them." She relaxed intentionally, fixing her posture into something more fitting a queen on a throne, "Tell me, did your king send you to interrogate me?"

The elf's spine stiffened farther, even if her face gave nothing away, "Questioning of prisoners must be prompt."

Loki's eyes widened with a dark spark, upper body leaning forward with interest, elbow propped on the arm of the chair, "Oh," her smile turned predatory, "then he didn't...you came quite on your own!" Loki was positively brimming with strange excitement over that understanding, "Now that is interesting! Stepping out against your king for the sake of pride?"

Tauriel shifted, eyes growing colder, "It was not pride that brought me here. You are dangerous, we have all seen it to be true, and I intend to find out how large a threat you pose to my people." A blade was between her fingers just that quickly even though she obviously had no intention of using it yet, "I will use ant means I have need of. Your cooperation will decide how pleasant your stay in our lands will be."

It was Loki's turn to laugh sardonically, "I see! It is trouble in paradise! Beginnings of mutiny then?" She watched the elf turn ridged and saw the reflexive protest jumping to her lips, but she headed her off, "Mutiny might be too strong, but you...are not opposed to going against an order, I can see that within you." A razor edged smile directed at the captain had her uncomfortable instantly, "I like this! The good little minion disobeying orders because of fear for her little clan. It is sweet, really!"

The harsh bark spoke more to the correct deductions, "Answer my question, filth!"

Loki merely chuckled, not insulted but vindicated by the response, "Thor is my brother, traitor to my kingdom, our father, and now to me as well. In his plan to steal the throne, he sneaked back into Asgard with the help of four traitors, then lured me to the bridge between worlds." Loki steepled her fingers under her chin as she leaned back, "There, he tried to kill me, but succeeded instead in causing my fall -the best he could manage- landing me here." Her cold eyes studied the other woman to judge how the words were received, "So forgive my irritability while the traitor my father banished for his crimes is now ruling in my place."

"What crimes caused this banishment?" Her response was quick and emotionless.

"It was the needless slaughter of another Kingdoms people in hopes of starting a war. The entire kingdom would have been destroyed had our father not arrived and ordered him to cease, promptly banishing him after. Now he rules beside his four war monger friends...free to rain havoc on all the people I swore oath to protect and keep peace with." Loki shrugged lightly, "Perhaps I over reacted when your people attacked me? But I believe I have reason to be on edge."

"You thought yourself free to rain havoc on my people, those I swore to protect." Sharp, cunning eyes drilled into Loki like swords, "It seems I see a connection in the family already."

The dig hurt more than the little elf could have guessed without knowing far more of the truth than she did, but Loki only chuckled darkly, menacing in her every fiber, "I harmed none of your people, though I could have, and I only struck in defense of my own life. I hardly see the resemblance."

"I believe you to be the sort that would never see wrong in your own acts, only in those of others. You are the sort to always justify your deeds while condemning others for similar acts. Ill qualities in those that rule." Tauriel's tone was clipped.

The anger sparking in her green eyes was difficult to hide as her hands shook slightly, "Again, unlike Thor, I did your people no harm since I arrived. You attacked me and I defended myself. I am nothing like Thor!"

The elf stood suddenly, hair swaying at her back, "That remains to be seen. Those that protest most against being monsters are often closer to tyrants than they will admit."

The shaking remained but Loki kept silent as she watched the elleth leave the room, wanting so badly to strike at her but knowing it to be ill advised. Her eyes took in the sway of her hips and the way her long hair swung like a pendulum perfectly down the center of her back, perfect posture, but a slight uneven hitch in her steps that did not fit the pace the Aesir remembered. If the elf felt the glare at her back she gave no indication as she closed the door without looking back. A spell took hold once again with a slight hiss most would not have noticed, but it indicated clearly that she was trapped once again in the room to await her next visitor.

Loki rested her head back against the chair with a growling sight, eyes turning to the vines and looping cloth over her head. Being compared to Thor was no less infuriating for its familiarity than the unintentional lines drawn to her true lineage and the monsters hiding in the shadows. The king she deposed with her own hands before the great Odin, he would haunt her for eternity, crawling within her very blood. Two kings of two different realms and yet they would never leave her be, never let her be free of them, forever nipping at her heels viciously. In many way, they would stalk her steps even more than Thor, her supposed brother that she had been overshadowed by her entire life.

As she saw it now, there were monsters in both worlds, some just hiding in flawless skin. Monsters came in all forms, some were simply more obvious than others. At least that was what she thought just now, a revelation she might hold onto or also might forget.

The swell of rage faded rather quickly, taking much too much energy to maintain and it was easier to allow it to fade so she could rest once more, pushed down inside to allow a numbness to take its place. Some part of her had to wonder if the captain knew more than she indicated considering her word choices. Perhaps the traitorous lips of hers had muttered more than Thor's name in her sleep. If Tauriel knew nothing then she was simply better at interrogation than she even knew. Either way, she could relax slightly now that she was alone again.

No one would be around for some time, which meant no one would bring her anything to quell her bodies needs.

Her eyes fixed on the abandoned cup with a thirst she could scarcely remember ever having felt. On any normal day she would be repulsed at the mere thought of drinking after another but even the thought of the fire haired elf having tested it first could not drive the desire away. Resolve weakened, she reached with shaking fingers and coiled them around the warm China and quickly brought it to her lips. The once hot, now only warm liquid slipped down her throat in a heavenly glide the likes of which she would remember the rest of her days. It tasted sweet, not unlike the water, pure as the tea of Vanaheim, but deeply herbal.

Loki's eyes widened as she realized it was a mixture of healing herbs for she had sampled enough in her time to recognize the feel of them entering her blood. Healing herbs...yes, for she had injured Tauriel in battle. She had forgotten entirely! Oh, that did taste sweet!

There could be no denying the smile curving her lips as she took another sip, doubly pleased by it now. The she elf was in recovery from a wound, and moreover, healing herbs would greatly help her own body. Twice a victory! The tea, if it was indeed that, tasted all the better for her revelation. The cup warmed her hands and the liquid eased the throbbing in her throat.

What in life could be better than revenge served over tea?

At any rate, she would have need of a plan. Once the cup was drained, she slowly eased to her feet and headed toward the bath. There was much she needed to decide and she could do little proper thinking while she was as miserable as she was. A bath in hot water would do her good and speed her mental workings, so she drew herself the hottest water the bath was capable...even if it took her an admittedly long time to understand how to work it...

The tatters of her destroyed garments were not difficult to remove after all the abuse the straps and buckles went through, almost falling off her with a little prompting to be draped over a chair. She would see what she might do with them later, but not now. The bit of cold was just made worse against her skin for lack of protection and the steaming water looked all the better for it.

Very gingerly, she eased herself into the water, instantly being freshly aware of ever injury upon her body recently, even if the wounds were closed, she felt it keenly. After a moment of teeth grinding pain, it eased and she was able to relax, sinking as deeply into the water as possible, relishing the heat seeping into her shivering body. She could fall asleep again but she knew she best not.

Her eyes drifted up once again as her mind settled into the task of plotting out her next steps. The king would be seeking her out again for answers she promised him which would give her the much needed chance to negotiate with him. She would submit to his whims, placate him and give him reason to keep her. Men were easy enough to manipulate if the woman was wise enough to use his mind against him, use his need to be dominant to her own advantage. Submitting to a man, or giving him the illusion of surrendering, held more power than openly fighting him. They had a need to play the hero and protect the little lady of the castle, she had seen that time enough with Thor - he never could resist playing the hero to the ladies no matter how many times Loki tried to tell him it was nothing but a ploy.

If she learned nothing from her family, even from Frigga, she had learned about the stupidity of musclebound men. This king might not have been like them but she was sure if she played she moves correctly, she could play him as easily as she might any of the men she had ever met. Thranduil was intelligent, no blundering warhammer, but so was she. Better still, she sensed that he wanted to listen to her because he was curious! Curiosity, she had learned by personal errors, was as great a weakness as the arrogance of her brother, and she could use it! The mystery of all that she was would bring him to her because he was a mind that never stopped working and running, a mind such as that needed answers to questions. Leaving him with more questions every time would ensure that he kept her.

Her long fingers rubbed circles in her temples as she worked out exactly how she wanted her next encounter with the Elven king to proceed. It would be a dance between them, one she could not afford to step wrong in. She had to have a few good and solid plans in place to keep him guessing, keep him under her own spell. He needed to comply with her without realizing that he was, which was a tricky sort of thing to play at with anyone but the band of foolish three, even Sif was more challenging.

As the water began to cool she realized how long she must have been hiding in the bath. The cold was no longer being chased from her body by the heat and it was useless to remain in it any longer. Grudgingly, she rose, plucking free the plug to let the water drain before gathering a towel around herself as she slipped past the dividers and curtains hiding the bath from the rest of the room. Her wet feet stuck to the floor with each step as she padded forward, running her fingers through her slick curls to smooth the wet hair into a semblance of normalcy.

If nothing else, she felt more like herself now that the filth had been cleaned away. It was refreshing to be back to her usual self, beautiful as always. It would be much better to see the king again now that she looked less like a savage from some swamp. If she did a bit of work on her dress she might be able to give it back a little of its former glory in order to seem less the pitiful waif from the distant streets.

Her brows creased as she looked to the chair, noticing the clear lack of clothing upon it where she knew very well she had left her dress before she entered the little space of privacy. Her stomach dropped to her toes in disgust as the obvious became clear to her. Once again, someone had entered without her noticing. Either she had been too lost in thought or her senses had dropped horrible in this realm!

These elves were just a bit too good at what they did, which seemed to be sneaking through trees and playing spy at every moment of the day. They slithered in and out like spiders... no, not spiders, she took that back! Anything but spiders, ever again! Mice would be a much better comparison! Not disconcerting at all, these elves!

Oh, yes, she would need to be extremely careful! No false move would go unnoticed, she supposed. Their keen sense would make life more interesting.

Not that it changed anything, for she would still proceed, just more carefully.

Loki strolled to her bed in irritation, eyeing the new dress obviously intended to replace hers as it waited for her in a delicate drape over the pillows. She reached for it and shook it out, her nose crinkling as she eyed it. It was various shades of green - at least they had given her that - in an odd texture material, a little like silken leaves woven together somehow. It had an odd sheen but it seemed more like something Frigga might wear, not matronly, just a bit too delicate for what Loki normally would wear. Doubtless, Frigga would have picked something very like it for her to wear to some grand event. It would make her look the delicate flower in any court, accentuating her womanly features with frills and flowing material - something Sif would tease her without mercy for ever putting on. Thor would snicker and make too many comments about how he had forgotten how delicate his sister was or how he would be more careful to protect her the next time they left Asgard.

In a word, she loathed it! Not a scrap of metal, leather, or even a tiny bit of armor! What did they think she was, some tiny maiden incapable of battle? Tauriel was given better than this! Was she expected to glide about with flowers in hand, expected to create tapestries in the meadow the way her mother might? This was insulting! Not that she had a choice but to wear it without her own clothes.

Her inner tirade slowed as she realized it was not terribly unlike things she had seen on Thranduil. Different, less extravagant, but rather similar. Her shoulders drooped, frown deepening as she pondered over the problem. Perhaps it was not so horrible, not quite the insult she expected. It could have been an olive branch, giving credence to who she said she was. The world was a confusing place.

* * *

><p>The lights in the room were dim, just small flickering candles in a few places to break up the darkness. They cast the sleek figure in grotesque shapes on the floor and walls as he moved, elongating his height impossibly in the shadow. Long fingers flexed and coiled around each other as the great elven king paced back and forth in his chamber, silver robes tangling around his ankles as they attempted to keep up with his motion, his cold eyes searching the walls for answers that refused to surface. He always paced in such a way when he was alone. Oropher had done the very same, pacing when he believed none could see. The great leader of the past never allowed any to see him fret over anything, always a perfect picture of lighthearted confidence to all, only allowing doubt to crease his strong features when the world was shut away.<p>

A much younger elf, skulking and used to hiding, always saw. Thranduil watched his father pace this exact stretch of floor so long that now he could do little else when his mind was occupied similarly. Yes, in fact, there was evidence on the tiles of the two generations of kings having walked the floor, enough that he was forced to have a rug placed over in to hide the evidence. Like father, like son, it seemed!

His sleek chin dropped slightly at those memories, platinum hair brushing itself in caresses against his cheeks, a longing creeping into his heart for the wise advice of his father, ashamed to think he might know so much better what should be done than his predecessor. In his heart, he never felt equal to Oropher, never supposed he lived up to the title Oropherion. The subjects in the kingdom did not think him adequate any more than his own mental doubt. They never questioned him to his face, waiting until he was not within range to call him the "temperamental" king. He remembered times in brighter days when it was not so but all things had been tainted when the woods turned dark.

They loved him still as any would love their king and protector, he knew this as well. They obeyed his word and hovered protectively about him, instinctively shielding him without thought if a hint of danger was in the air. It was their way, the Silvan way, for he was the great "father" of the wood, entrusted with the kingdom as Oropher had been. It was his to protect and he was above them no matter what more he might be. He was closer to the Valar than they ever would be, and so they revered him. He was their king and it would always be so, and with that came a trust so deep it could not be broken. The day he watched his father fall in battle was the day that trust had been given over to him, and shelter them he would, for he had long ago watched too many of his people die. It was then that he vowed never to let them be crushed again.

His head raised defiantly, banishing the doubts clawing his mind, shoulders squaring to their usual posture. No matter now what questions filed his mind for he was king and the choices were his to make. The heaviness of the crown rested on none but his own head. Thranduil alone must decide how to deal with his Kingdoms newest threat and potential alliance. Be she a weapon to hold and use or be she his destruction remained up to fate. What he did now, the manner in which he handled the witch would determine the outcome for ill or good and he knew it all too well.

The Sindarin king hoped for the later most deeply. He was in great need of a powerful weapon! There was no question in his mind that he must gain her loyalty somehow. For all his wealth, he could not afford a new enemy of such power. This queen of a different land was an asset that he was in great need of and he had no intention of letting her slip from his grasp.

She was cunning though, like an elf, and he was only too aware that he must tread carefully. Something in her was dangerous, unstable and volatile, he could sense it even if he had yet to name it properly. Perhaps it was hate, perhaps it was madness hidden beneath her beauty, he could not tell just yet. Reading such a woman was a task he supposed would be worthy to a great quest of courage, perhaps worse than facing a dragon, a quest he must undertake if he intended to gain her help.

She was too powerful to let free and he knew this well even if his people worried his allowance of her continued presence was tempting death. The only options were to kill her before she could destroy them or risk her growing strong in order to gamble on her future use. Not his most winning or desired set of choices. Killing her risked incurring the wrath of her kingdom but letting her live could eventually be the ruin of his. It was imperative that he get ahead of the potential carnage, head off anything she might do and bind her loyalty to him.

Things could have gone so much better if she had waited a short while more before attacking, if stress and tempers had been slightly lower on part of all involved...

"What troubles you so, Adar?" A strong voice behind him demanded attention calmly.

Thranduil very nearly jumped, eyes snapping to the entryway as he started at his son, so tall and strong... A slight mixture of his mother, himself, and even Oropher. Looking at the ellon gave him chills at times, especially when Legolas stood as he did now, shrouded slightly in shadow, drawing mind and heart to souls set sail, but stirring strange pride that could not clearly be explained.

Thanduil's breath caught slightly, a smile, wan though it was, drawn to his lips for memory of startling Oropher from his reverie in similar ways. Like father, like son, indeed.

Upon reflex, he found himself offering the same response the king before had spoken when posed with that question, the same air of superiority within the tone, "What causes you to believe I am troubled?"

"You pace so when you are thinking but only pace in the darkness when you are worried." Was Legolas' reply, a triumphant smirk threatening his lips as he stared at his father, almost daring him to refute those words.

Thranduil locked his arms casually behind his back as he resumed pacing without even realizing it, "Am I not allowed to ponder? The lighting has absolutely nothing to do with my state of mind, merely my distraction."

The ellon strolled into the room and pointedly began to light a few more candles, banishing most of the shadows as the self congratulatory gleam in his eye grew, "Does your mind dwell on our problematic guest?"

"Why do you suppose it is she, the displaced queen that dominates my thoughts when there are so many more important things to dwell on?" Thranduil could not manage to drop away his own defenses even before his son, "There are spider nets ever increasing in frequency as well as other such creatures within the wood. Is it not more likely for me to think on these things?" He held up a finger as if to sneak in yet another point, "I have also seen the Brown Wizard on the move, straying too near our borders and I have no intention of letting his shattered mind wander over my lands." Even so, the fact that he was defending himself meant he was not yet on the winning side.

"The spiders did not engage us in battle upon your dais nor vanish and flee to the cellars." Legolas began to pace in circles around his father, matching his pace in slow and wide arches, "Nor did we hold the Brown Wizard in your dungeon, Adar. I believe my logic to be reasonably sound."

"And what if it is the sorceress I think over?" He halted before the elfling, using the slight height difference to his advantage as he stared into those blue-gray eyes, wondering how his heir had managed to gain the supposed upper hand, "What does it matter?"

"It matters to me if it troubles you and if she endangers our people! I wish to help." Legolas met his father's gaze without flinching, shoulders drawn back and his chin held high.

The Elvenking's eyes widened as he stared into that handsome and determined face of innocent youth. The ellon had seen battles, had fought alongside warriors, but he had yet to be ruined by the horrors Thranduil knew to be waiting in the world. He had lost many, but he had never stood over a mountain drenched in the blood of every friend he had ever held dear, nor watched helplessly as a king and father was stolen away. He had never screamed to the sky until he had no voice, raw with grief so deep the spirit would never breathe fully again.

Remaining king also protected Legolas in the way Oropher had not protected Thranduil. The crown drew away life from the one holding it as if it were a living thing to leech life from its host. As a prince, Legolas could hunt with the warriors, prowl the woods, dance under the night sky, or run with the deer. A crown was like shackles and it would steal that away from him in an instant, chaining him to the halls of Limrond for the rest of his days. He wanted to spare his child the weight of a world and people upon his shoulders. The crown was too heavy for one so young and so free... and a bit foolish.

Thranduil's voice was soft and quiet as a whisper, "Oh, Nithig, so eager to take on the troubles of the world..." His hand reached out unbidden before he realized what he was doing, the backs of his fingers resting against the ellon's cheek. Legolas did not move, hardly seemed to breathe, eyes widening slightly as he stared into the unreadable orbs of his father, unused to shows of affection in recent years. Senses returned quickly and the Elvenking withdrew his touch, dropping his arm back to its place behind him. "But you needn't." Once again, his voice was deep and the aloof chill had set into it as if the tenderness had never been there at all.

He could not allow this to continue, he had no choice but to strike down the coming ideas of his ambitious child. Inadvertently, he would put himself at risk and even give her the advantage. Thranduil could not afford either option, not when he already walked such a fine line. There was a kingdom to worry over, not just the pride of his son. While being refused again would sting, it would keep the child safe. Resentment he could handle, having Legolas stripped from his arms was not in the same category. Loki would kill his son if she felt she must, he was quite certain of that, and he would not allow the two so close again while that was a risk. He loved the ellon too much to dare risking any harm coming to him at the hands of one he could not control.

While he worried slightly when Legolas rushed off on the hunts, he knew what would be faced in their own woods, and he knew the child and other warriors could handle the challenges. The sorceress was quite a different story. He was not sure even he could handle her, even with his grasp on magia and goetia. Facing her was no easy task, none he would gamble with. No, Legolas could rage all he liked, but this was not an option.

* * *

><p>It was hard to understand the sudden shifts in his father's moods at times. At any given time, even though he grew at his father's side, he could not honestly predict what the Elvenking might do. He could remember times when he was younger, perched atop Thranduil's knee, when the same tenderness he witnessed had flowed freely through the older ellon. The gentleness that once lived within the great elf had been gone such a long time, it having perished with the Greenwood, infected right along with their home. To see a moment of it now was a shock to his system, one that sent him into confusion and caused him to lose the footing he had so carefully crafted moments ago. He wanted to curl into the touch, cling to it as long as it lasted, but his pride refused to yield to the child within, but he lost both his advantage and the forgotten king in the same moment.<p>

Catching the king off guard was a rare thing, one that was difficult the achieve, and one he spent his life perfecting. It had taken such care to enter without alerting him, throw him off, and successfully unsettle him. It had been so like climbing a great mountain to have accomplished it and filled him with about the same amount of pride. It was all for nothing though, for he knew instantly that he had slid back to the bottom.

Legolas watched as the tables tipped and Thranduil began to circle him, a little as if the advantage of surprise he held in the beginning had never truly been his, "I could question her, force her to speak." He muttered with mounting force, "I could wring her secrets from her, I could." He suddenly felt so like a child begging to be allowed to go on his first hunt, swearing that he could bring down the biggest kill, and he cleared his throat. "That is to say, she will not speak the truth easily and will need persuasion. She has already proven that she can escape our cells and we cannot afford to let her regain her strength."

"As I said, you needn't. I will tend to that myself." Thranduil's voice was lofty and distant as if he stood upon a frozen hill, staring down at his heir.

"Then allow me to at least accompany you!" He persisted swiftly, "She is too dangerous for you to face alone, there is no need for you to, Tauriel and I can-"

"I have no need of company." The words slipped from his tongue so easily but were a harsh lash to Legolas' pride, a dismissal if ever he had heard one, "Her powers are interesting, but nothing I have not seen in others over the passing of time. She has nothing I cannot outmatch."

"Why do you insist upon dealing with her alone?" The bitterness in his heart deepened his tone as his shoulders coiled tighter.

"I thought I already answered that, Legolas." The glacial gaze landed with its full force, "I need no assistance. You are not to go near her, as I have already instructed you." The wave of his hand was the final dismissal, "Return to your duties as I previously instructed you."

Legolas struggled to hold fast to his ever growing frustration, knowing most of his first reflexive words would make him sound an utter toddler, but he reaching out and daringly cought hold of his fathers wrist, "Adar, you are making a mistake in continuing-"

The way Thranduil's eyes whipped toward him, the blazing anger only he could make seem so chilling hid beneath the steel of them, and it made his words die on his tongue. The sudden fear of exactly how grave and final that look always seemed to be ensured he could speak no more. While he could face a pack of Orcs, standing firm under such a stare was a far harder task, turning the stiff backbone he was so proud of to nothing more than a willow. His hands fell away before he bowed his head submissively, backing silently from the room without further protest. Without a word being spoken, he had been chastised into obedience. It always ended that way regardless of how well he plead his case. The Elvenking was not one to be beaten, not one to be challenged even by his own child.

In honesty too, retreating was made vastly easier if none could see the shame of it. He carefully slid the door closed with a final click as he turned and nearly fled from the chamber, too confused and angry to decide what he ought to think. That exchange had put him off balance and he was intent on regaining his center quickly.

He shook his head and grit his teeth, fingers twitching into fists. That witch was to blame for it all! She had placed turmoil within the palace and all that she touched the very moment she arrived. For as perplexing as his father behaved now he could swear she placed an enchantment over the great leader. It was true that he was never easy to read but he seemed vastly worse tonight. At first he thought he was speaking some sense to the king but the wind turned so suddenly against him that he had no time to adjust. She was dangerous and his father seemed to be the only one unable to grasp that fact! He seemed to see her as nothing more than a slight challenge, one he would have no trouble bending to his will. Why could he not see sense?

Arms locked behind his back, brows creased in frustration, stride strong and quick, he marched through the halls with no particular destination in mind. While he should direct his steps to joint the patrol party soon to replace the one before, typically marching out with them around this time of night, he did not alter his path to do so. The order was clear, to go about his normal duties, but his mind was far too clouded for that. As it was, muddled minds were of no use to scouts, he reasoned.

It was not right the way his father refused to listen! Everyone in the kingdom knew that she was too dangerous to be left as she was. Something had to be done with her and that was simply all there was to it. They should chain her or place enchantments over her to force her into submission, perhaps drain her of any further energy she might gain. They had all witnessed her power, seen the way she vanished from their sight and that could never be allowed to happen again! Something had to be done with her, and if his father did not see fit to do it, someone else would. Edel would begin to question his wisdom if he did nothing and as his son he could not allow it.

The young ellon marched down the winding hallways, mind lost to his thoughts until he spotted red hair farther down the steps. Tauriel would agree with him, he was very sure. The two of them might be able to come up with a plausible plan, one his father would be forced to see wisdom in once they presented it. Surely something could be done!

* * *

><p>The night dress they provided her was nice enough, not too unlike the one she often slept in when at home. Her fingers twirled a strand of her hair around and around as her eyes flitted over the walls. The gown was warm enough but that did not stop her from wrapping one of the blankets around her shoulders, considering it better than nothing even though she still felt chilled. The dress and the blanket dragged to floor as she paced little circles around the room, her mind spinning as she worked over her plans. There were so many things that could go so wrong and it seemed they were very likely to if her recent history was any judge.<p>

The fire blazed in the hearth like a group of dancing demons, filling the room with heat that never seemed to be quite enough to fulfill her. It was her only light but she did not particularly care. Darkness had always been a friend to her for her did her best plotting and planted her best traps while hidden in its arms. Darkness was a thing people seemed naturally fearful of for what it might hide and that made it a friend to her always.

The problem was that she could afford no further complications if she intended to make any progress in this world or her own. It would take time to find her way to Asgard, time she could not waist idly. There was much to do and she was not at all sure she was up to the task at the present. She felt more fragile than she had in a very long time, so very mortal! It was unpleasant.

Her body coiled tight, steps hitching when she heard the sound of the sell lifting as someone entered, swinging the door very carefully open, being sure she was not waiting to spring and bolt. Running was not yet in her best interest though and she was only too aware of that. Being caged was not something she relished but it was a necessary evil for a time, especially considering the identity of her visitor.

Loki did not bother to turn and look at him for she knew exactly who he was, "Come to finish our conversation?" Her voice was coy and lilting so as not to betray her dread of the inevitable.

The door clicked and hissed shut as he glided on ever light feet toward her, "Yes," His deep, following voice collided into her ears, "I am. I believe you promised to speak with me once I allowed you to rest."

Loki turned on her heels, tilting her body toward him as she graced the tall, shadowy figure with an indulgent smile, "Indeed I did, my liege, but if I had known you intended to visit in the night I would have dressed more elegantly."

Here the battle lines would be drawn, she knew, and she was unsure if she was mentally ready for the onset. If possible, she would have put this talk with the handsome and frightening king to another day. Stalling would do her little good though, for he would eventually come no matter what she did. It was always best to put battles such as these to rest quickly no matter the pain and nerves involved. Who better to best this creature than she, the lie-smith, anyway? Why doubt her skills now when even her own family often could not tell her honesty from her betrayal? Yes, she could best this Elvenking as she had done to so many others over her life.

Was this not what Odin secretly always wanted her to do each and every time he sent her to negotiate with other kingdoms? Did he not always wish her to best any that came her way with words as Thor could with his strength? Oh, yes, the old fool could boast of right dealings but she knew in all the things unsaid what he wanted her to do each and every time. She did not disappoint him either, for he always came out in the very best when she was his ambassador. The nerves had always fluttered in her stomach but she found with experience that she worked best with plotting, but also quite well when under pressure. This was just another negotiation with hidden intentions.

* * *

><p>Annnd basically, trouble brewing, as Loki said. She tends to upset the balance of any world she enters. Queen of Chaos and all. Thranduil has quite the time on his hands with her... and his Captain... and his heir. (Now we know why he's testy in the Desolation of Smaug! jk)<p>

And I'm sorry for the slow update. It's honestly been a hell of a week, or no, that's a lie, more like month. Sorry also if it's bad, I wrote it while almost falling asleep so I don't even know if it makes sense, hope it does. I'll do better next chapter, I hope. Enjoy anyway!

Nithig is Son

Adar is Father


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